between your ribs
by closingdoors
Summary: They find Maura two hundred and ninety two days after. Rizzles. COMPLETE.
1. Chapter 1

There is a shipwreck between your ribs. You are a box with  
 _fragile_ written on it, and so many people have not handled you  
with care.

And for the first time, I understand that I will never know  
how to apologize for being  
one of them.

 **What It Took To Understand, Shinji Moon**

* * *

 _As you may have assumed from the summary, this is a fic revolving around Maura being abducted. It is not, however, related to the abduction case that has appeared in season six (as you will soon learn from the dates of events in this story). I began writing this long before that appeared in the show; if you're looking for a fic relating to that certain disappearance, then this is not the one for you. Other than that, have fun reading! This is my first multi-chap fic for the fandom, and I hope you all enjoy it. Major tw for abuse._

* * *

 **Chapter One:**

 _September 21_ _st_ _, 2015_

* * *

They find Maura two hundred and ninety two days after.

It is not Maura they bring home.

* * *

The woman Korsak leads out of the basement is a small, timid thing. Her soft fierceness has dissipated from her core, replaced with hunched shoulders and eyes that won't meet Jane's when she offers her a blanket. It's orange, and ridiculous, and she waits for Maura to rattle off a fun fact about the effects of the blanket on shock. That warm, soft voice she's been yearning for like honey on her wounded hands –

The woman accepts the blanket slowly. Hands upturned, waiting to be submissive. Jane flicks her gaze over to Korsak, who only nods, urging her on silently. So she takes a small, dizzying breath and sets the blanket in her hands. They're pale, slim, _too_ slim – her wrists reedy and knuckles too obvious. Painfully, they retract with the blanket, letting it slip open so that she can pull it over her own shoulders with mechanical movements, eyes empty as she stares at the gun on Jane's hip.

Jane can't resist. It's been so long since she's seen her. Too long. Had begun to believe – maybe – she wouldn't see her again.

She steps forwards, allows her fingers to drift across the lacerations littered across Maura's chin. At the touch, she whimpers, closing her eyes, and Jane steps back immediately.

"Maura," she murmurs, and the woman's eyes stay closed. "It's me. It's Jane. I'm not – I'm not going to hurt you."

There's silence between them. Around their small bubble CSU works at sweeping the crime scene, others barking orders for members of the public to stay behind the yellow tape, some glaring at the press that are drawn to this moment with their cameras and dentist approved white smiles. She just – wants them to go away. Wants it to be her, and Maura, and a long, slow hug and words like _I missed you_ and _I thought you were dead_ and _I don't know what to do without you._

"Maura?"

Paramedics rush past her, knocking her shoulder lightly and she bumps into Korsak. He steadies her with one hand and she turns to him with questions on her lips, ones that won't make a sound, only to find the same ones shrouding him.

"I'm going with you," Jane insists, tracking the paramedics as they begin to lead Maura away from her. They disappear from her sight as a crowd of CSU pass her and her chest tightens, and she shoves them aside to catch up, her chest only relaxing when she spots the paramedics and Maura again.

"No."

It stops her in her tracks as Maura glances over her shoulder. Meets her eyes for the first time. They're bloodshot, the bags beneath them dark and bruised while cuts adorn her cheekbones; red and pink and pale. Multiple hues dating the same tragedy and Jane takes a moment to really _look_ at the woman in front of her. The one she's been searching for so long now – has photos of everywhere, dreams of her face in her rare moments of sleep, her last known movements burned into the back of her eyelids. This isn't the same woman she'd been looking for. The woman she'd cried for was bubbly and bright, verged too often between the lines of annoying and adorable.

This woman hunches beneath the blanket, hands pale as they grip it tightly. Her lower lip wobbles as Jane stares for too long, strands of dirty, greasy hair falling against her cheek and tangling in her eyelashes.

"No," she repeats again, a harsh and strangled sound. Raw. Jane's eyes flick down to the fresh bruises painted across her neck.

It stills everything within her. Has to close her eyes and count down from ten and _breathe_ before she can answer.

"Okay. Okay, I'll – " She'll what?

Opens her eyes, finds Maura staring at her feet.

"I'll see you later Maura. Okay?"

Maura doesn't say anything, lets the paramedics lead her away as they insist that they need to get her to a hospital immediately. And Jane –

She lets her go.

* * *

"Jesus."

Words leave her after that as she steps down into the basement Maura had been held in for the past nine months. Korsak looks back at her and sighs as she takes in the room.

It's filled with people working the scene, but she can imagine what it had been like with its sole occupant. The floor is grimy, a carpet that might once have been white but is now a dark grey, interrupted with red stains that make Jane's stomach flip. With a sharp intake of breath she looks away, at the bed in the corner, metal frame pushed up against the wall. Oddly, the mattress is covered in silk sheets, a gold-cream comforter – it is this one thing she picks up on, instead of the bright red stain that blooms in the middle of the bed (so much _blood,_ Maura's blood – ). She imagines Maura, alone, tucked under them, afraid in this concrete box. No light except for the one light bulb swinging from the ceiling, but the switch for it in the hallway upstairs.

She takes a sweep of the rest of the room. Books. Fancy, hardback ones with names like _Tolstoy_ and _Hemingway_ imprinted on them. Some medical ones, too, and she moves towards them, lets her gloved hands run over the dog eared covers. Maura would never let her books grow into such a condition.

Under the stairs, there's a toilet that looks like it's never been cleaned, a small brown-stained sink next to it and a showerhead poking out from the wall. No curtain. No privacy.

Cameras. In every corner of the room.

The tears spring hot and instant to her eyes but she fights them. Not now. _No more crying._ Maura is safe, and on her way to the hospital, and she will never have to go through this again.

"There's no windows," she states after clearing her throat.

Korsak appears beside her, staring at the showerhead too.

"Sick bastard. Left her alone with books and this."

"He's going away for life," Jane growls. "If not, I'll put him down myself."

* * *

There are three suspects and every one of them makes her sick.

Jane curls her hands into fists, feeling her scars throb as she stares at their mugshots. The Matthews family.

The first photo on the murder board is of the eldest. The father, Jacob Matthews, a sixty-seven year old white man with vacant eyes and a white wiry beard brushing his sternum. After looking through his file, she finds he's been accused of sexual assault, battery and intent to supply. It's surprises her that she's never heard of the guy before, but she has no time to focus on that.

Jacob Matthews's wife, Maria, had died five years ago, but she's left a son and a daughter behind. The eldest being the daughter, a twenty-nine year old woman with cheekbones that could cut stone and eyes the darkest shade of brown she's ever seen. Melissa has no previous charges, but plenty of them have been made and later dropped. No doubt her father's interference. Damn, is there no-one in the force that _won't_ take a bribe these days?

The younger sibling, Kyle, is only twenty-five. He looks exactly like this father – eyes far away in his mug shot and lips twisted into a half-grin. She feels her stomach give way staring at the photo, so she finds his file, reading endless lists of charges made against the guy. Intent to sell, like his father, but also armed robbery – even _that_ charge has been dropped. Either these guys knew people in the force, or they have one hell of a lawyer.

Kyle is the owner of the property in Connecticut that they'd found Maura hidden away in. Narcotics had been trailing him for three months, waiting for a chance to raid him hoping to find evidence of a meth lab in this second house of his. They'd seen his sister, Melissa, visit the household regularly, and had no doubt that the father – the ringleader of the family – was involved in the dodgy dealings going down. Finally, they'd caught wind of Kyle making a deal downtown, and while half of their team rushed out to arrest him, the other half attained a warrant and stormed his house.

They hadn't found drugs.

They'd found Maura.

* * *

Constance Isles is the last person Jane expects to find in the hospital corridor.

"Detective," she rises from her seat and embraces her, making Jane stiff with shock. "Thank you. So much. For finding her."

Jane swallows past the lump in her throat and fights the urge to throw the woman off of her. _You didn't care when she was around,_ she wants to yell. _You shouldn't have had to lose her to see how much you need her._ They're the right words for the wrong person, however, and she lets the moment pass with guilt burning a hole in her lungs.

"How is she?"

Constance clasps her hands in front of her. "They haven't told me yet. I only arrived here five minutes ago, the earliest flight had been two hours after your call. They keep telling me they're running tests, but other than that, I've received no information about my daughter."

Jane spots the nurses reception desk at the end of the hall and squeeze's Constance's elbow. "Gimme a moment."

The nurse sees her coming and Jane flashes her badge, making the nurse sigh. She supposes she must get this a lot.

"I need information on a woman brought in here a couple hours ago. Maura Isles. She's part of an active case we have going."

The nurse hesitates briefly, but Jane refuses to soften her glower. After moments of tense silence, the nurse turns to the computer, typing as slowly as humanly possible.

"She's still with doctors undergoing several tests, that's all the information I have at the moment – "

"Well _what_ tests? When will she be done?"

The nurse frowns. "I'm sorry, detective. I fail to see how that's relevant to your case. We'll contact you when Miss Isles is lucid and ready to answer any questions you may have."

Growling, Jane shoves away from the desk and storms back over to Constance, where she relays the information that the nurse provided her with. The woman deflates, sitting back down and staring at the blank walls opposite them. Jane curls her hands into fists by her sides and fights the urge to let this anger free through violence. Two hundred and ninety two days. Nine and a half months. Since she last saw Maura, heard Maura's laugh, listened to her nerdy facts. All this time, she'd been an two hours away, in another state. And now she's being kept from her – she's probably on the same damn _floor –_ and Jane's just… she's just…

She failed her.

Constance frowns when Jane sits beside her. "I imagined you'd be leading the manhunt."

The reminder that their suspects got away make her scars throb. "Feds took over the case. They crossed state lines, so… They gave me access to some of their investigation, but they politely threw me out before I could get too deep into it."

"I pictured you as the argumentative type, detective."

"Yeah, well," Jane watches as an elderly man attached to IV shuffles from his room. "I knew where I'd rather be."

* * *

She wishes that she had known.

The last time she had seen Maura, it'd been the coldest month of the year. December, and she'd narrowly avoid tripping on ice whenever chasing after a suspect. Almost twisted her ankle once, and Maura would always insist she needed to be fare more careful in the colder weather. As the day Maura disappeared came and went, Jane began to ache for that nagging – for someone to make sure she was always keeping herself as safe as she could.

December third. 2014. She'd visited Maura's house after a case for a movie and drinks (Maura had attempted to make her try _mulled wine)._ She can still recall every small detail about that last moment they had together – the taste of the beer, the soft wool of the blanket covering their bodies, the way Maura's hair tickled her shoulder. Normally, she'd have forgotten the moment. It'd just be an inconsequential memory, tucked somewhere in her subconscious and never tapped into again.

But the next day, Maura hadn't turned up to a crime scene. She couldn't be contacted. Jane went to her house, and the door was wide open – signs of a struggle in the chipped wood of her doorframe, the spilled trash right outside.

Jane had been the last one to see her.

For months, she hadn't been able to sleep. When she wasn't working, she was investigating Maura's case to the best of her ability. When she needed to sleep otherwise she wouldn't be able to function, she'd stare at her ceiling and relive the memory.

Maura had forced her to watch a movie Jane had been less than excited about. French, with English subtitles. Too fancy. They'd curled up beneath a blanket on the couch, Maura with mulled wine and Jane with a beer (three weeks after Maura had disappeared, Jane had realised it was her favourite brand. Maura always kept it in her fridge, anticipating Jane's visits. It was something she'd never noticed about the medical examiner before, and had really wished she'd had the time with her to appreciate the sentiment behind it).

It had started raining halfway through the movie. She remembers, because she'd stopped paying attention to the movie. She'd known Maura could tell she was only pretending to pay attention, but her friend hadn't called her out on it.

Afterwards, Maura's eyes had been drooping. Barely awake. As her breathing deepened, the ends of her hair had brushed against Jane's shoulder, her arm.

"You're tired," Jane observed. "I should go."

"No," Maura murmured. "If I go to sleep now, my REM cycle won't be fully complete when my alarm is due in the morning, meaning I'll have a bad quality sleep."

"I'm sure your REM cycle would appreciate the extra time. C'mon," she'd nudged Maura, whose head had fallen back against the couch as her eyes fluttered closed. "Maur."

Her head lolled to one side. "It's extremely unhealthy to – "

"Ignore when you need to sleep. Jeez, Maura, stop making me the responsible one here."

That'd made her laugh. A soft, sleepy chuckle that had haunted Jane for months. She'd known that, wherever Maura was, that same gentle sound wasn't being created. She'd never wanted anything so desperately as to find her and make her laugh that way again – happy, and trusting.

"Okay. You're right," Maura had caved and accepted Jane's hand to help her up, lifting the blanket with her. "Oh, Angela asked if we'd have lunch with her tomorrow. She's looking after TJ."

"Sure, if we don't get a body. What time?"

"Well, lunch is typically – "

" _Maura_. What time?"

Maura had huffed, glaring. "Twelve."

"Twelve it is."

They hadn't made it to that lunch.

Had she known it was going to be the last time she'd see Maura for two hundred and ninety two days, she would've made their quiet moment last forever. She wouldn't have left that house so easily, would've made sure Maura locked all of her doors and windows and waited on her couch all night to make sure that no-one could get to her. Or she would've just _said_ something – something to make the moment important, to show Maura how much she cared, to show her that she would never stop looking for her. That she needed her in ways she was too afraid to admit.

"Family for Miss Isles?"

Jane's head snaps up at the sound of the doctor's voice. Constance is already on her feet.

* * *

 **TBC**


	2. Chapter 2

**between your ribs  
**

 _Thank you for all of the wonderful reviews I received for the first chapter of this fanfiction! They really made me smile. I'm so glad you guys are enjoying this already._

* * *

 **Chapter Two:**

 _September 21st, 2015_

* * *

Considering Maura's trauma, the doctors recommend that only Constance goes in to see her. A familiar face – that phrase grates her. She _is_ a familiar face. Her Ma had lived in Maura's guest house, for crying out loud.

Oh. Her Ma.

As Maura's doctor and mother disappear down the hallway, Jane fumbles for her cell in her blazer pocket. There had been no time to tell her that they'd found Maura. The call she'd received from Connecticut PD had come through at six in the morning, and the first person she'd called was Korsak, then Constance – the two of them, herself and Korsak, had driven down to Connecticut the minute they were both awake and dressed and she hasn't thought to contact anyone since.

"Jane? What's wrong?"

She must know. Both she and Korsak had taken the day from work, obviously, and news spreads fast in that fishbowl she calls work.

"They're all saying you found her, Janie, that you found Maura. The Lieutenant – "

"She's – she's been found," Jane says, pinching the bridge of her nose. Just not by her. Someone _else_ found Maura. "I'm at the hospital now, Ma, in Connecticut."

" _Connecticut?_ Why would someone take Maura to Connecticut?"

"I don't _know,_ Ma, they won't even let me see her," Jane growls. She wants to throw something at a wall. Or someone. Both will do.

"Who took her? Jane, who?"

"Ma, he… There's suspects. This family, the Matthew's but – they got away."

Her mother, for once, goes silent. Jane leans back in her seat and rests her head against the wall, trying to breathe deeply. She's always hated hospitals. The smell of them, their unnatural sterile state. She's spent too long in them. After her first encounter with Hoyt, and the shooting, and Hoyt hurting Maura, and losing the baby… She hates hospitals.

She just wants to take Maura home.

It almost startles her, when her mother speaks again, despite the softness to her tone. "And… how is Maura?"

Jane digs the heel of her palm into her right temple, rubbing lightly. For the most part, she hadn't understood the jargon that had spilled from the doctor's mouth – had been too afraid to ask what it all meant in case it all meant something _bad._ Constance had been white as a sheet afterwards, as the doctor had lead her to her daughter, and for a moment Jane had forgotten they were there because Maura was the victim. She'd almost turned, looking for her, expected Maura to translate all of the medical speak into English that she understood.

"A couple broken ribs. Malnourished. A bunch of superficial cuts and bruises, as well as past traumas. A vitamin deficiency, I think? But no… No sign of sexual assault."

"Thank God," it comes out as less than a whisper.

"Constance is with her now. They – they wanted her to see a familiar face. Not a… cop. Someone with a position of authority."

"I don't know how her mother kept herself together through all of this," Angela says. "Maura isn't mine…"

"But you think of her as a daughter," Jane surmises.

She picks at a thread coming loose around a button on her shirt. Of course her mother thinks of Maura as her daughter. It's not jealousy she feels so much as longing. To be certain of that connection. It's easy for her Ma. Maura had provided her with a home; attended family meals; signed up for classes with her. Maura stepped into her life as though she had always belonged there, and she had been accepted as such.

It's different. For Jane. She and Maura had butted heads at first. Their friendship had been slow to start, and uncertain in its middle. The woman had been unlike any other she'd ever befriended – out of her league, and she hadn't been afraid to admit it. Maura had been her constant, however, and that had been something she hadn't bargained on. Kept waiting for Maura to realise that Jane wasn't _her_ kind of person. She hadn't.

It's different, because… just _because._ Because when Maura had disappeared, she'd lay in bed and imagine Maura right there beside her, breathing soft as she dreamed peacefully. Anywhere she went, there was a gaping hole in the shape of Maura in her life. It wasn't just meals, and classes, and lunches with TJ. It was late night movies and someone to talk to and the feeling of being loved and accepted by someone who chose to do so, not just through obligation.

It's different because she would have dreams about kissing her best friend's smile and would wake wondering if she were dead.

"She's our family, Jane."

The button falls away.

"Yeah… I know."

* * *

Fifty minutes pass, and Jane begins to wonder if she's simply become invisible. If the doctors and nurses that pass her think she's blended into the walls. It sure as Hell feels like it. And she's never really felt invisible before.

"Detective?"

Jane jolts to her feet instantly, finding Constance approaching her. Her heels click against the floor and she runs a hand through her hair, smoothing it down. Looking remarkably put together. For the first time ever, she sees the similarities between Maura and her mother.

"She's asleep now. She was barely lucid when they allowed me to see her, but I thought perhaps now would be the right time for you to come visit."

Jane nods, not trusting her voice, and follows Constance to Maura's hospital room. Of course, she'd seen her at the crime scene – but that was when Maura had people around her to hold her up. When action blurred around her and made focusing a dizzying task. She's not too sure if she's ready to see the sight of her best friend lying in a hospital bed, but there never is a right time for the things that hurt you.

The first thing she notices when she steps inside the room is the lack of light. The blinds are closed, overhead lights off, and her eyes blink against the sudden change, adjusting.

"She didn't like it," Constance says, as if reading her thoughts. "She's lived for nine months without sunlight. It'll take time for her to adjust."

As Constance closes the door behind her, Jane takes two hesitant steps into the room. Maura lays on the bed with tubes she doesn't understand the use of coming from her nose, arms and hands. Skin almost as pale as the sheets she's laying on, and Jane can't help it, is by her side in an instant and reaching for one of her hands – gently. The skin feels paper thin, and it's the first time that she's ever thought of Maura as something breakable.

"She's so _small_."

She doesn't realise she's said the words until they come tumbling out. Hoarse and quiet. Constance hums in response, leaning against the closed door.

"In a few days, when she's strong enough, they'll transfer her to a clinic in Boston. I've already arranged it – they'll plan her diet so that she'll be a healthy weight again. And treat her vitamin deficiency. The ribs, however, will simply take time."

Jane holds her breath. "And the... past traumas?"

Constance sits on one of the chairs beside Maura's bed, opposite Jane. Her expression remains neutral when she replies. "Are past traumas. Doctors assure me they'll leave no physical repercussions. The mental ramifications are another matter entirely. I've arranged for her to begin seeing a psychologist alongside her physical treatment back in Boston."

Slowly, Jane sits on the chair behind her, dragging it closer to Maura. She keeps Maura's hand in her own, allows her free hand to drift up her forearm, fingertips ghosting against the skin. _Real._ Maura is real. Not a figment of her imagination, no cruel trick in a dream. Maura. Hurt, and a little damaged, but real. She presses her lips together to stop a sob from ripping free.

"How do you do it?" She asks Constance, looking up at her accusingly. "Handle these facts so… so…"

"Please don't make the mistake of thinking that I don't love my daughter, Detective."

Jane scoffs. "You weren't there. You didn't save her."

"Neither did you. But the both of us are here now, aren't we?"

Indignation rises hot in Jane's lungs, spilling from her mouth.

"I _looked_ for her. You buried your head in the sand and waited for it all to be over."

"I suspect, Detective, that you and I are the same in that way."

Jane growls low in her chest, looking back down at Maura. Her chest rises and falls slowly. Carefully. As if she's afraid of taking up too much space.

Maura's wrist. She wraps her hand around it easily. Too easily. It's too small, too reedy – Maura's cheeks are hollow, the spaces beneath her eyes carved deep. Her eyes linger once again on the bruises wrapped like a scarf around Maura's neck. Brittle and bright.

This is what she had been afraid of. Finding Maura like this, less than whole. She had feared this more than her death.

* * *

She falls asleep in the chair, eventually. Sometime in the afternoon, when her stomach is rumbling, and it only just occurs to her that she hasn't had anything but the coffee Constance had bought from the cafeteria.

Maura wakes in the evening, two hours after, hand stiffening in hers. Constance isn't in the room, Jane realises, as the movement pulls her from her slumber, but wastes no time thinking about it. Instead, she leans forward, closer to Maura as her eyelashes flutter. Her neck protests in pain from the way she'd slept, but she ignores it, anticipating Maura's smile.

"Hey sleepyhead," she murmurs when Maura's eyes finally open. "You had me real worried there."

Maura's eyes lock on hers and stare blankly. "I'm sorry," she says, but it is wide and void, making Jane frown.

"Hey, you have nothing to be sorry for. God, I'm just so glad that you're alive. It's been so long."

Maura wets her lips. "It has?"

"You don't – " she hesitates, glancing over at the door and praying for Constance to appear. "You don't know? Your mom didn't tell you?"

Maura shakes her head minutely. Her greasy hair rustles against the pillows. "No."

Jane pauses, speechless for a moment. She doesn't even know. She doesn't know how long she's been missing, how long she'd been held captive and hurt and punished and God knows what else. Jane has felt every single day excruciatingly. Nine and a half months of her life had passed in slow motion. The wheels had kept spinning, but she had been thrown off course.

"Nine and a half months," she tells her, watching her closely. "Two hundred and twenty two days. That's how long you've been gone."

She waits for the dam to break. Anticipates folding Maura into her arms and protecting the soft mass of her in ways she hasn't been able to for so long.

Maura blinks. "Okay."

Jane's jaw almost drops. "Just… Okay? That's all you've got to say?"

Maura's lower lip trembles. "What do you want me to say?"

"What do I – God, Maura, I don't know. I don't know, okay?"

Maura watches her, beginning to tremble, and Jane softens for her instantly. Curls her hand around Maura's hand again, another at her cheek, even as she flinches beneath her touch. The way Maura is watching her, staring at her, calculating each of her movements. Like a deer in headlights, trapped. It makes her think that Maura is waiting for her to hurt her. Waiting for _punishment._

"I'm sorry. I'm not mad. I just don't know what to do."

Her friend says nothing. Does not relax. Slowly, Jane withdraws her touch, and she watches as Maura's shoulders drop, relieved. Oh. Contact.

She doesn't like… contact.

"Do you want me to call a nurse? A doctor? Or – they said you were malnourished, they should probably bring you food, right?"

Maura stares at her like she is a trap. "Do I… _want_ you to?"

"Yeah, Maur. You probably want food, right? Water?"

Maura's breathing grows rapid, eyes darting around the dark room as the machines monitoring her begin to bleep loudly. The sound makes her startle, and then raises her own hand to lay over her bandaged ribs. Jane aches to reach out, comfort her, prevent her from hurting herself even more, but she keeps her hands curled as fists in her lap.

"I don't understand. Where's Mr Matthews?" Maura asks, high pitched and breathless.

Jane frowns. "Maur, we – the narcotics unit rescued you from him. Remember? You're safe now. I promise. He can't get to you here, you're in the hospital, there's guards stationed right outside your door."

"Safe?" She repeats, small.

Nurses bustle in then, attending to Maura and the cause of her distress. When one of them touches her, Maura screams, raw and feral and Jane is on her feet, reaching for her, croaking her name. But another nurse pushes her out the way, sending her stumbling and she watches in horror as Maura tries to fight them. They fiddle with her IV, another one producing a needle and at the sight of it Maura wrenches her body up and away from the bed. The only thing that stops Jane from going to her is the nurse trying to push her out of the door.

"No, no!" Maura cries as they administer the sedative, two of them holding her down as tears begin to tumble down her cheeks. Jane feels them rising in her own eyes. _"Jane!"_

"Maura," she wants it to be fierce, but her voice is afraid of the person it's reaching out to.

" _Ma'am_ ," the nurse huffs, holding her back as she once again tries to step closer to Maura. "Ma'am, please, we need space."

Jane stumbles backwards, out of the room, catching one last glimpse of Maura struggling before the door slams in her face.

She presses the skin of her palm to her mouth, and cries for the first time in two hundred and twenty one days.

* * *

 **TBC**


	3. Chapter 3

**between your ribs**

* * *

 _Sorry for the slow update/lack of replies to reviews on chapter two! I don't have wifi at the moment, I've just moved back to university, but that will hopefully be sorted soon. Thank you for sticking with this regardless!_

* * *

 **Chapter Three:**

 _September 22nd, 2015_

* * *

Windham is an interesting place, she decides. A far cry from Boston. She takes herself for a walk around the city, learning the lay of the land, looking for some sign as to why Maura would've been taken here. It seems illogical. To stay so close to the place that she was being looked for.

Korsak had returned to Boston late last night. He'd wanted to stay, but she just wanted to be alone. It was better for him to have gone back, anyway – inform everyone in person what had really happened, instead of whispers passing through the precinct. She'd found a cheap hotel a couple blocks away from the hospital and had decided to stay until Maura was transferred to the clinic in Boston.

A gaggle of teenaged schoolchildren pass her on the sidewalk, laughing to themselves. The shortest one of the group blushes under her gaze, eyeing the badge on her hip. She pockets her hands and moves past them, heading in the direction of the hospital. Constance had warned her that Maura's outburst yesterday might not be the only one. Had sent Jane away a couple hours after it had happened and told her she'd let her know when it was alright for her to come back. Around midday, she'd called, telling her that Maura had been much better today. A little more lucid. Still small, and confused. But better.

The nurse at the reception nods at her as she passes. It's the same one that had pushed her from Maura's room.

Maura's room is still dark when she moves in and closes the door quietly behind her. Constance's head raises from its position on the bed, beside her daughter's hip, and Jane doesn't mention it. She and Constance show their love differently. Both quietly. But differently.

"She let them bathe her this morning," Constance tells her in a hushed whisper as Jane takes a seat. "Well, it wasn't so much _let_ as simply went with what they said."

She wants to take Maura's hand. She doesn't. "Submissive."

"Yes, that's it," Constance agrees. Her lips downturn as she says it.

Jane reaches out, lets her fingers brush against Maura's freshly washed hair. It makes her look a little better. Healthier. It's limp – probably from the vitamin deficiency and lack of care. Still, it's clean, and soft in her hands. She retracts immediately when Maura's eyes flutter, before settling on her mother.

"Darling," Constance greets her gently, like she would a cornered animal. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine," Maura rasps, and Constance passes her a cup of water. Maura accepts it timidly. "Thank you."

Constance squeezes her daughter's hand and Maura doesn't flinch. Jane feels hope bubble inside her chest. She thought Maura hadn't wanted contact – it had certainly seemed that way yesterday. Without thinking, she reaches out, rests a hand on Maura's arm and the woman jerks away almost instantly, crying out in either pain or surprise, she's not sure.

Jane whips her hand away so quickly it bashes against the wooden arm of the chair. It throbs but she doesn't pay attention to it, just stares at Maura as she stares wild-eyed and afraid back at her. Constance is watching the detective, too – confused. Her mouth opens and closes a few times before she can think of anything to say.

"Maura? It's… It's okay. It's just me. It's Jane."

Her eyebrows pinch together. "They said you wouldn't come for me."

"What? I – Maura, I'm right here. They found you, you're safe, remember?"

Constance squeezes her daughter's shoulder as Maura pushes herself up to a sitting position. Her ribs must be hurting her, her arms trembling as she holds herself up, but she doesn't let herself fall. There's nothing Jane wants more than to be her crutches, hold her up safely, never see her fall again. Her hands feel as though they've inflated twice their size, awkward and clunky as she forces them to remain in her lap.

"You didn't come for me."

Her throat burns.

"Why didn't you come for me, Jane?"

"I did," she whispers hoarsely. "I always will."

Maura shakes her head, eyes closing and face battling a losing war with confusion. Beneath her eyelids, her eyes are moving rapidly, lost and confused.

"Yesterday. You let them hurt me yesterday."

Anger spreads through her shoulders, makes her broad and mean as she thinks back to then. No, she'd _never_ let anyone hurt Maura. She'd been forced away from her. It isn't her fault. Everyone seems to be fighting to keep her from her best friend, including the woman herself.

"No. No, I didn't," she leans closer, reaching. "They _forced_ me away, Maura!"

Slowly, Maura's eyes peel open again. Previous fear is replaced with abject terror, and she immediately lays back down on the bed, arms collapsing beneath her. Her head lands with a muted _thud_ against the pillow as her eyes fill with tears.

"Melissa?"

It's barely audible in the silent room. Jane rips her eyes from Maura's to face Constance, who's covered her mouth with her hand, frozen. Melissa. Kyle's sister. The one with dark eyes and dark hair and a twisted soul. She thinks she's – Melissa?

"Please," Maura sobs. "Please, I was _good._ I didn't – I didn't mean to – "

"Maura," she reaches for her and Maura cries out. Constance's hand wraps around her wrist before Jane can even blink, pulling her away from her daughter and Jane looks at her in muted desperation.

"You need to go," Constance says fiercely, and when she doesn't move, she tugs on her wrist again. " _Now_."

Behind her, Maura whimpers.

* * *

They take almost an hour and thirty five minutes with Maura.

Constance leaves the room when the hospital's psychiatrist finally agrees to see Maura. She says nothing to Jane. Instead, she stands by the window, hand wrapped around the locket she's wearing, staring out at the rain. She supposes the patter of the rain against the window should be soothing. Rhythmic. It simply has her sitting on the edge of the seat. It feels too much like something out of a sad movie.

The psychiatrist comes and goes, speaking in hushed tones with the doctor at the end of the hall. It drives her mad; she can hear their sounds, she simply can't make out what they're supposed to be saying.

"Mrs Isles," the doctor approaches her, psychiatrist in tow, and Constance accepts their hands to shake. "Perhaps you'd like to take a seat?"

"Tell me about my daughter," Constance demands, and Jane stands beside her, glowering.

The doctor looks glances between them, flicking his gaze over to the psychiatrist before speaking. "This is a family – "

"Whatever news you have, Jane deserves to hear it too," Constance cuts in. "Now tell me. What's wrong with her?"

The psychiatrist clears his throat, looking down at her notes.

"Miss Isles is suffering from an extreme case of PTSD. As is evident from her change of personality – which you both have noted. She seems confused as to whether this is all real or not, submissive in nature. Probably due to the mental abuse she suffered at the hands of her abusers. She had been taught that this was her new way of life."

PTSD. Okay, she understands that – she can help that. Can't she? With a little bit of time, and perseverance, they can beat this.

"Then why did she call me Melissa?"

The psychiatrist rests his fingers against his chin. "It's possible that she's blended you, the one she viewed as her saviour, with her captor. Do you have a photo of the suspect?"

Jane searches through her phone for the files she'd emailed herself back when the FBI had given her access to the case. She's still waiting for the moment that they realise what she's done and have her escorted somewhere very dark by men in suits.

She pulls up a photo of Melissa Matthews and passes her cell to the psychiatrist. "This is one of them. The one that she… confused me with."

He hums, staring down at the photo. "You've similar features. I understand why – after what she's experienced – she's experiencing these… visions, shall we say. She has difficultly separating the two of you."

As he passes her phone back, he turns to Constance. "I understand you've arranged for Miss Isles to see Doctor Reyes alongside physical treatment?" He asks, and after Constance nods he continues. "Good. I know her well. She's one of the best mental health professionals in the state of Massachusetts. Maura will need a long time to recover, and, as well as therapy, she'll need a solid unit of support."

"I'll be there for her," Jane steps forwards. "I can visit her. At the clinic. And when she's ready to go home, if she needs it, I can look after her. If that's okay with you, Constance."

Constance smiles. "I think that is a wonderful idea, detective."

The psychiatrist clears his throat uncomfortably. "Actually, detective… Miss Isles should be ready to transfer to the clinic in Boston in a couple days time but… It is under my recommendation that you do not see her."

She is underwater. She stares at his mouth, trying to make sense of his words.

"Excuse me?"

"Miss Isles has experienced a traumatic event and the repercussions are deeper than you could ever imagine. She needs to learn to accept the events that happened to her, and come to terms with moving on. You, consciously or not, are a deep reminder of that experience. You'll only hinder the recovery process, which I'm sure you understand is of the greatest importance here. It will be a long and arduous time for her; experiences such as these can sometimes take years to overcome. When Miss Isles is ready to face you, I'm sure she'll find you."

Jane can feel Constance's eyes on her as her cheeks fill with heat. "And if she doesn't?"

The psychiatrist clasps his hands together. "Then she isn't ready."

* * *

There is water everywhere.

She is vaguely aware of the world beating on around her. People and cars pass her as she stands on the sidewalk outside the hospital, but she cannot make herself focus on them. They merge into blurs, swerving around her and she stumbles, reaching for a wall to hold herself up on.

 _Experiences such as these can sometimes take years to overcome._

Jane pushes away from the wall and begins marching towards her hotel. It's as though her legs are underwater, pushing against the currents slowly, impossibly. The sounds of life around her are distorted. They do not make sense to her ears, and she curls her hands into fists, needing a way to release all of her energy.

 _And if she doesn't? Then she isn't ready._

The moment she's in her hotel room, she slides down to the floor, back pressed against the door. She slides her hands into her hair and presses her face between her knees, keeping her breathing deep. It's only now that she becomes vaguely aware that she's gasping – and then her fingers are groping the air, searching for something, she doesn't know what. Is this a panic attack? Maura would know. Maura always knew.

Surging up onto her feet, Jane stumbles into the bathroom. Turns the shower on _cold._ She loses her clothes in seconds, stepping under the spray and it freezes her. Cold water beating against her skin and she buries her face in her hands, shivering as her breathing begins to deepen and slow. Returns to normal, and then she's sitting, the water pouring over her head and making her splutter as it spills between her lips. But it's okay, because feeling is beginning to come back to her. Fingertips not so much numb as they are shaking and lungs not so much lost as they are raw.

She had been _right there._ Under her fingers. Her hair. Her skin. Maura. Real, and alive, and _safe._ She hadn't found her, but she could've helped her become who she once was. She'd thought –

Jane curses, spitting blood when she bites down too hard on the inside of her cheek. She'd had Maura.

And then she'd lost her again.

* * *

 **TBC**


	4. Chapter 4

**between your ribs**

* * *

 _Thank you so much for your support. I can't reply to reviews individually at the present time (fingers crossed I get wifi soon) but I appreciate them all so, so much._

* * *

 **Chapter Four:**

 _September 23rd, 2015._

* * *

The FBI set up base back in Boston, at her own precinct, where the investigation had first begun. According to Korsak, it sends the entire department into a frenzy – trying to co-operate with the feds, provide them with everything they need, while still solving their own cases. She doesn't doubt that Cavanaugh is on edge from the situation.

Two days. She's been away from work for two days and so much of her life has changed. Still, she pulls a shirt and trousers on that morning as if everything is still the same, clips her badge in place and gathers her gun from her nightstand. Jo Friday sniffs at her ankles and she squats, stroking the dog and needing one more minute of silence.

Her life has been full of it since Maura disappeared. She'd never realised that she'd begun to think of it as a companion in her place.

Her mother rushes towards her when she enters the precinct twenty minutes later, squeezing her tightly in a hug.

" _Ma_ ," she squirms a little, but doesn't pull away.

"Just a few more seconds," her mother mumbles, squeezing her a little tighter before letting go. "How is she? How's Maura?"

"They're transferring her to the clinic here on Friday," Jane tells her. "Her mother will be staying at her house while she recovers, and then she'll… she'll hire help for Maura when she's ready to live on her own again."

"What's the point in wasting money? She's got you," Angela says, waving a hand. "That's the problem with all these rich types. They throw their money around needlessly thinking it'll solve the problem."

"Actually, Ma, I… I can't look after Maura."

Angela stares at her as though she's just told her she's quitting the force. "What? Don't be stupid, Jane. I'll move back into the guest house, look after her when you're not there, I can make the two of you dinner and I'm sure her doctor will tell you all of the medical side of things – "

"Ma," she sighs. "I'm… I'm not good for her recovery. When I was down in Connecticut, they discovered that she – well, she gets confused around me. She doesn't think I'm real and then she thinks I was one of the people who held her hostage. So I'm… I'm bad for her. I'm bad for Maura, Ma, and I have to put her first. You know that."

"That's ridiculous," Angela protests. "Are you listening to what you're saying, Jane? She's your family. Whatever the doctors have told you, you don't just abandon – "

"I'm not _abandoning_ her. I'm just giving her space until she's ready to deal with me," Jane says, and when it looks as if Angela is going to protest again she cuts across her quickly. "Look, Ma, I can't get into it now. I've gotta go see where they are with the case. I'll talk to you later, okay?"

Angela sighs. "Okay. But _don't_ think you're getting out of this, Jane Clementine Rizzoli."

Jane hears a couple snickers from officers passing by and closes her eyes, drawing in breath slowly. She does not have time to waste arguing over petty things like her name with her mother. Needs to get up there and find the son of a bitch that did this to Maura, because she can give her nothing else but this. Closure. Even if she doesn't get her own.

"I'll see you later, Ma."

* * *

The lead Agent on the case is Agent Phillips. She'd done her fair share of research on her last night. Agent Molly Phillips, one of the youngest women to be recruited to by the FBI – widely praised and plenty decorated. Jane had struggled to believe that half of the cases she'd worked on and half the things she'd been rewarded for were real; they'd all sounded like something out of an action movie. Still, she'd been happy about it, reading up on the agent. Maura's case is being run by someone competent, someone – though she hates to admit it – a little better at her job than herself.

Seeing the agent in person a little difference. They've taken up one of the rooms on the floor below homicide, a sea of men and women in black suits with technology far superior to the BPD's set up around the room. Agent Phillips stands at the far end of the room, speaking with Frankie as they stare at something on a computer screen. She's tall – a little taller than Jane – with blonde hair pulled back in a tight bun, eyes green and sharp as they track movement on the screen. She's… surprising. Broad, and intimidating, but when she pats Frankie on the shoulder she's warm.

Well. _Here goes nothing,_ Jane thinks.

"Agent Phillips."

The agent quirks and eyebrow as Jane approaches her. "Detective Rizzoli. It's a pleasure to meet the woman who stole copies of _classified_ files from my case."

Phillips holds out her hand to shake even as she chastises her, and Jane accepts it warily, straightening out her shoulders as she attempts to hold her own. "You mean they weren't free for me to take home for some bedtime reading? You should probably put a little more warning on them."

"I believe the huge red _classified_ usually warns people enough," Phillips responds dryly. "You could've just asked, you know. Your brother here offered to assist us in our investigation the minute we set up base."

Frankie looks sheepish as Jane shoots him a look. "What? I just wanted to help."

"And you have," Phillips replies. "Frankie's been searching through CCTV for almost twenty four hours. Managed to track Kyle Matthew's location down to two hours ago."

Phillips gestures to the computer screen behind them, and she leans over the desk, watching the video intently. Frankie hits play to reveal a dodgy looking back street she can't name, and one of their suspects emerges from an alley. Kyle. The guy makes it obvious – that he's running from someone. He's ditched the zoned-out, relaxed druggie look she's seen in his mugshot, instead paranoia seems to have settled in. He rushes down the sidewalk, constantly looking over his shoulder as he takes a right at the end of the block.

"I lost him there – he hit a blind spot in the CCTV and could've gone in any direction, or still be in the area."

"He knows we're after him," Phillips says. "This is all down in Franklin – he must be trying to get back here. We can't find the father, Jacob, and suspect he's still here in Boston if Kyle's headed here. I just asked Franklin PD to search the area."

"What about the sister, Melissa?" Jane interjects.

Phillips frowns. "You think she was in on this? I think she knew about what her brother was doing, sure, but there's nothing to suggest she was an accomplice."

"No. She – she was definitely in on it. Maura she… spoke of her. She's afraid of her."

Frankie's watching her intently, she knows, but she keeps her gazed fixed firmly on the agent in front of her. Phillips nods, tucking her hands into her pockets. "I have a BOLO out on her anyway, hoping we could question her about her brother, but there's not been a hit so far. Thanks for the info, detective."

Jane shrugs. "I'm here to help."

Phillips raises her eyebrows. "You think homicide could spare you?"

"That depends – you willing to give up Frankie?"

"Detective, Frankie has been doing great work – "

"There won't be enough down in homicide without the both of us. Korsak can hold his own with Nina, sure, but you need a team – "

"It's not a choice," Frankie interjects, stepping forwards, and Jane feels pride welling inside of her. "I'll work in homicide while Jane temps with you. I want to help Maura, sure – but not if it means taking Jane's place. Jane, she's… Maura's your person to help, you know what I mean?"

Jane grins, lightly punching her brother in the shoulder. "Thanks, Frankie."

Phillips watches the exchange unfold with her eyebrows raised. "If that's your choice, thank you for your help while Detective Rizzoli was away. You've really helped the investigation."

Frankie actually _salutes,_ making Jane roll her eyes. "You're welcome, Ma'am."

He knocks shoulders with Jane as he leaves the room. She catches his supportive smile and nods, just slightly. Yeah. Her family have her back. She can get through this. If she just compartmentalises, focuses on the case – views it objectively. Then she can get through this.

"Detective, when will Maura be back in the area? I understand she'll be admitted to a private clinic here."

Jane nods, leaning against the desk and crossing her arms over her torso. "She's going to be transferred in two days. This Friday."

"Think she'll be up to giving us a statement? We need it to get the ball rolling, but doctors keep sending my agents away when I send them down to her in Windham."

She takes a deep breath before replying. "You know I… I don't think she will be. The doctors are right in sending your men away for now. Maura isn't herself at the moment. I know she'd rather give her statement when she's more coherent."

Agent Phillips purses her lips. "Detective, are you suggesting that Maura Isles isn't a reliable source?"

"What? No! Jeez, she's – she's a little messed up right now but she's not _that_ bad. I just don't think we should push her before she's ready."

The agent is watching her peculiarly, eyebrows knitting together. Jane feels her face growing heated under the sharp gaze. How many suspects has she given this same look? When the cogs are spinning in her mind, searching for their motives; their reasoning; their methods. Her hands knot as she shifts uncomfortably, narrowing her own eyes as she tries to hold it together. Objective. She needs to be objective.

"What if I sent you to get the statement?"

Jane clears her throat uncomfortably. "That wouldn't be a good idea. It's – you know, easier to talk to someone you don't know. Isn't it?"

Agent Phillip's smiles wryly. "You really are one tough nut to crack, detective."

"Excuse me?"

Philips shakes her head, laughing. "Nothing. I just need to learn to stop listening to gossip."

* * *

Phillips has her combing through records of her old cases – _maybe you've encountered the family before –_ and despite Jane's protests that she's done this a thousand times since Maura disappeared, she's stuck there anyway. Phillips assigns her a partner, of sorts. Agent Kei Ito, who seems far too young to already be working in such a high-ranked team in the FBI. He's friendly enough, however, and focused and quiet as she likes the people she works with to be.

"You and Maura both have one Hell of a case closure record," Agent Ito remarks, letting out a low whistle at the stack of files in front of him. "Haven't any of you heard of digital memory?"

"You've seen how old my superiors are, right?"

Ito laughs. "You're not one for subtlety, are you, Detective?"

Jane shrugs, flipping the page of the file she's searching through.

"The FBI hired me straight out of college. That was about three years ago," Agent Ito tells her, shrugging. "I'm young, yes, but everyone starts somewhere."

Jane wets her lips. Thinks about the gruelling training for the police academy, the college she had skipped in order to get there. She had worked her ass off, and this fresh faced kid had just been plucked out of school and pushed straight into such a huge group? That's not the kind of person she wants looking for Maura's captors. She wants someone who knows the meaning of perseverance, of hard work; she wants more Agents like Phillips herself. Maura deserves the best.

"Inexperienced kids shouldn't be put on cases like this."

"You really think that Phillip's would have _inexperienced_ agents on her team?" Ito asks, raising an eyebrow. "Don't worry, detective. We'll get your girl justice."

Jane flushes. "She's not my girl."

"Really? That's what everyone's saying around here."

She pulls her bottom lip between her teeth, biting down hard. Maura has been held captive for two hundred and ninety two days. She has endured unimaginable physical and emotional pain and now her abusers are still out there, hiding from them. And all anyone has to gossip about is her non existent relationship with Maura? She's not quite sure which she'd rather them gossip about.

Her voice is soft when she next speaks, despite her best intentions.

"She's… She's not _mine,"_ Jane confesses.

Understanding washes across Ito's face immediately and she _hates_ it. The people around here – these agents – catch onto things too easily. Which should be _good,_ until the things that they're catching onto involve her. And her feelings for Maura that leave her head buzzing with noise and stomach flipping with guilt every time she thinks about the fact that never truly got to save her, and now she's not quite so sure whether she'll ever be able to save her from herself. In all of the dreams that she had had involving the feelings she'd been harbouring, ones that she were too afraid to admit to, this nightmare she's living had never been one of them. Losing Maura had simply never been an option.

Two hundred and ninety two days is a long time to spend alone.

"We'll get them, detective," Ito tells her gently. "And when we do, you can be the one to slap the cuffs on them."

* * *

 **TBC**


	5. Chapter 5

**between your ribs**

* * *

 _Thank you so much for reading and reviewing... and I promise, there's always light at the end of the tunnel.  
_

* * *

 **Chapter Five:**

 _September 25th, 2015._

* * *

That morning, she wakes to find her mother in her apartment.

 _"Ma,"_ she groans as Angela wakes her before her alarm has even had the chance. The sleep she'd collected the night before had been sparse. Three hours, tops.

Despite all of their efforts, she and Phillips's team have still failed to find the Matthews siblings. Every night, when Phillips's orders her team to go home for the day, Jane stays behind at the precinct. The leads they have are thin at best but she delves into them and gives them her everything, even if that means that she doesn't collapse into her apartment until two in the morning and rises again at six. The thought that these people are still out there, living freely, and could potentially do this to another innocent woman forces her blood to boil. She doesn't take kindly to those who hurt the people she loves.

"You're just as difficult to wake now as you were when you were fifteen, you know that?" Angela huffs, shaking her. "Get _up,_ Jane."

Jane groans, peering at her clock on her bedtime table. "Jeez, Ma. It's only half five."

Outside, the city is still dark, the only light entering her room is from the artificial one in her hallway. It's yet to wake fully and she closes her eyes again and takes a deep breath. Today, when the city wakes and life begins to move again, Maura will be transferred here. They'll both be in the same city again. And though they'll be physically close again, the emotional distance is palpable. She would live on the other side of the world to Maura if it only meant she would trust her again.

"Get up, Jane. You have a big day ahead of you. I'm making you breakfast."

Jane sighs, rubbing at her eyes. "I'm not hungry."

Angela glares at her. "Listen to you. Your mother gets up early, comes over to your apartment to cook you breakfast out of the goodness of her heart – and _this_ is how you show your gratitude?"

"Alright, alright," Jane concedes, sitting up. "I'll just get showered and changed first. Give me some space."

As she heads into her bathroom and hears Angela clattering with pans in her kitchen, Jane is grateful for the hundredth time that they no longer live together.

When Maura had been found missing… After Jane had called it in, and they'd swept the place, and all that they could find of Maura were her possessions, she'd broken the news to her mother in the bathroom of the precinct. It had to be a private moment. Angela had broke down in tears immediately, but had assured her that she knew Jane would find her. She always did.

Two weeks had passed and they were no closer to finding Maura than Jane was to speaking Latin. It'd been a mutual agreement, that Angela move out of the guesthouse as Maura's parents took over the financial responsibility of her properties, and into Jane's apartment until they could find something more suitable. They'd suffocated each other of course, but eventually she and Frankie had put enough together to put down a deposit for a small apartment a couple blocks from the precinct. With her mother's job, Frankie always willing to help, and Jane cutting back on her expenses while picking up extra shifts, they managed to scrape by and afford it.

"Alright, Ma, I'm ready for breakfast," Jane says after her shower, putting on her usual work outfit and throwing her hair up into a ponytail.

She sits at her kitchen counter and Angela passes her a steaming cup of instant coffee – just the way she likes it – and slides her plate in front of her. Bunny pancakes?

"Ma," she groans. "You know I hate bunny pancakes."

Angela's smile sobers instantly. "Maura loved them."

Guiltily, Jane sets her mug down on the counter and reaches for her mother's hand. Angela looks down, sniffling and Jane squeezes her hand tightly. Sometimes, she forgets that she's not the only one who feels Maura's absence so intensely.

"Thank you, Ma."

Angela shrugs, turning to busy herself washing the dishes as Jane eats. The pancakes are wonderful, sure, but she can't tear her gaze away from her mother. Her shoulders, a little deflated, and the recurrent minute shake of her head. As if she can simply shake the pain away. Jane swallows the last of the pancake and rubs at her chest. If only it were that easy.

"Maura's being transferred to Boston today," Jane fills the silence.

Angela shuts the water off but doesn't look at her daughter. "I know."

Sighing, Jane looks down at her lap, running her fingers over the back of her hands, the bumpy scars. "I know we didn't… Really get to talk about mine and Maura's circumstances. I know you're upset about it – "

"You're damn right I'm upset!"

Jane's eyes widen as Angela turns to her, eyes misty and hands shaking as she holds the dishcloth in her hands. Her mother – while nosy, and interfering – rarely loses her temper with her. Let alone _curses._

"Ma – "

"Do you really think that those Doctors know what's best for Maura? Better than her _family?"_

Jane rubs her hand across her eyes. The blurry images of Maura screaming, wild and terrifying, in that hospital bed have haunted her every night since. And her eyes – the next day, wide and terrified, afraid to be hurt. It causes a blockage in her heart and she struggles to keep it beating steady. Maura is _afraid_ of her. There are many facets of Maura Isles that she has witnessed. She has experienced her anger: bubbling and fierce. Her happiness: wide smiles and glittering eyes. Her friendship: warm hugs and the smell of lavender and the tickle of her hair against Jane's skin.

Maura Isles has never been _afraid_ of her before.

"My family has fallen apart before, Jane," Angela sucks in a sharp breath, wringing the dishcloth in her hands. "When your father left me, Maura took me in without thought. She never demanded anything in return, because she's _family._ You look out for your family. And when she disappeared – I tried to carry on. I tried to tell myself that my family had existed before Maura Isles ever joined it. But just because it did, it doesn't mean it was _whole._ And now she's back, Janie, and you're trying to take her away from me again."

Jane rises from her stool, quickly rounds the corner to swallow her mother in her arms. Angela rests her forehead against her shoulder, breathing erratic as the tears begin to flow, and Jane closes her eyes tightly. She feels it so _keenly,_ the loss of Maura. In every aspect of her life. They walk around their lives and talk about her as if she's dead, when soon she'll be no more than a couple of miles away.

"I'm not taking her away from you, Ma," Jane says softly, and Angela pulls away, peering up at her hopefully. "Listen, why don't I give Constance a call, ask her if Maura would like you to visit once she's settled in to the clinic? Maybe in a couple of days?"

Angela wipes at her tears. "But you said – "

"That I have to stay away from Maura, yes. But that doesn't mean you have to."

Her mother's smile is so wide it almost splits her face in two. It leaves her aching to feel that – to know the warmth of certainty in your stomach.

"Thank you, Jane."

Somehow, she stays standing. "She's our family."

* * *

When she arrives at the precinct later on, things are slow. Phillips watches over her team pensively, and Ito hands her half of a chicken salad sandwich he claims he doesn't want. Jane shrugs, accepting the food and happily eating as she searches through anonymous tips they've received on the tip line. Phillips had proposed the idea yesterday, and at this point, Jane will accept any help she can get. Most of the tips are bogus, of course – made by paranoid grandmas with nothing better to do but sit and watch out of the window all day. She happens upon one that pikes her interest, though, but after scrubbing security cameras she finds it's a false lead.

Taking another bite, the mayo squirts against her cheek and she squirms, reaching for a tissue.

What kind of food had Maura been fed?

She slams her eyes closed at the thought. No. Objectivity. That's what will separate her from the way she had searched for Maura before. She had been too involved emotionally, exhausted herself so that she could no longer think clearly and the case had become murky. Working independently had been a mistake. This time, she has Phillip's team. Ito. As young as he is, she's begun to feel a growing respect for the kid over the past couple days. He holds his own. She's noticed the way the other agents look down on him, but he faces it head on. Respectfully. Even if she has her own doubts about his ability, she has no doubts about his personality.

But personality won't catch the Matthews. And she can't stop thinking about them starving Maura. She's lost so much _weight._ The doctors had told her terrifying words like malnourished. They must've fed her, to keep her alive for so long. But barely. Had they forced her to beg? Brought her down to the weakest she could ever be to tear away at her hope?

"Rizzoli!"

Phillips's voice startles her from her thoughts and she finds the room is spinning. It's not all in her head, though – the agents around her are frantic, pulling on jackets and searching through their desks for their guns.

"The BOLO we had out on Melissa Matthews got a hit. Security caught her trying to leave the country at Logan International."

Jane's tugging her jacket on before Phillips can blink, shoving her gun into her holster. "She's still there?"

"Yeah. C'mon. You can join the calvary."

Ito lets her drive – not that he has much choice in the matter – and she chases the four cars full of FBI agents to the airport, hands gripping the steering wheel until her fingers go numb. She knows her driving is erratic, even in this moment. Ito shoots her a couple looks but says nothing, simply holds onto the dashboard and enjoys the ride.

Phillips assembles her team outside of the terminal entrance while Jane straps on her vest. The woman stands tall with her gun clasped in her hands as she barks out orders, the slash of her jaw sharp and has Jane staring. She divides her agents in two, assigning four of them to herself, and three others Jane has never introduced herself to along with Ito to Team B. Jane's team. Her hands falter as she straps her vest on when she realises Phillips has allowed her the chance to lead.

"Remember, we _must_ take her alive. She's useless to us dead. She may have information on her brother's whereabouts, and sources suggest she was an accomplice to the abduction and torture. Do _not_ shoot to kill."

Phillips looks over at Jane. She nods. Jane nods back.

While Phillips takes the south side of the building, Jane leads her team towards the north. They follow with guns raised, through the panic of the crowds in the airport, and her eyes scan the people there rapidly. She has long since burned the photos of the Matthews into her mind, and would be able to spot Melissa from a mile away.

"There," she murmurs back to Ito. Melissa is speed walking across the terminal, headed towards the fire exit.

"With me," Ito says to the agents behind him, leading them across to the fire exit to block her escape as Jane presses forwards, tailing Melissa.

The woman catches onto the fact that she's being followed quickly. One glance over her shoulder and she's caught Jane's eye, her own eyes widening at the sight of her gun. It sends her sprinting, but Jane is taller, legs longer, and she's practically right behind her when Melissa turns sharply, anticipating the agents blocking her exit and takes another path.

"Stay at the door!" Jane yells to one of the agents as Ito and the other agent begin chasing Melissa with her. He sticks by the fire exit, guarding it in case Melissa loops back, and as she hits the ground sprinting again she hears him radioing Phillips.

Melissa is panicked, now. The path she takes is erratic at best, shoving through crowds and toppling over suitcases as she searches frantically for escape. Jane pushes on, Ito right at her heels as her breathing comes harsh. Her legs burn as she pushes her speed a little and she throws off her own sense of balance for a moment, causing her to slow down to avoid falling over.

For one moment, her pulse quickens and the feeling of finality washes over her. Melissa is headed towards a wall at the end of the corridor she's lead them into. It's a dead end. They've got her.

But then she jumps, catches herself on the cover of an air vent. Her feet scrabble against the wall as she tears it away and pulls herself through, and Jane reaches out just in time to feel her slip through her fingers.

"Crap," she growls. She's too tall to fit in the vent. She turns to Ito, who can barely be past five foot five. "Ito – "

She doesn't even have to ask. Jane holds her hands together to give Ito a boost up and he's crawling in after Melissa, his pants of exertion growing quieter as he does.

Jane grabs for her radio. "Phillips?"

"Rizzoli? What's going on?"

"She's in the venting system. Ito's gone in after her, but I don't know where it leads."

"I'll check with security."

Jane drags the last agent on her team back to the main room of the terminal, quickly finding Phillip's looking over blueprints with the security guards. She looks up when she hears Jane approaching, flushed and disappointed, and gives her a nod. It's a small gesture, but it's something.

"The venting system has over ten different exits, I just sent my agents to cover as many as they could but it's unlikely that we'll get them all."

"Then what are we waiting for? An invitation? Let's go and cover the rest," Jane says, starting to move towards the exit when Ito radios in.

"Agent Phillips? Detective Rizzoli?"

Phillips grabs her radio first. "We're receiving you, Ito."

"I'm sorry, ma'am. She got away. That woman is _small,_ and, well, those things are really dark."

"It's not your fault, Ito. Meet us at the entrance."

"Copy that, Ma'am."

Phillips shoots Jane a look, daring her to object, and Jane forces herself to remain silent, to smother the building rage she feels bubbling beneath her sternum. The agent grabs her arm and pulls her to the entrance of the airport, where they find Ito standing around looking anxious. His lips downturn when he spots the expression Jane sports.

"Rizzoli, I swear, I almost had her."

It almost feels like that bullet so many years ago re-entering her. Shredding her insides while she fights to stay standing. She plasters on a small smile and squeezes Ito's shoulder.

"You tried your best, kid."

Phillips covers one of the north-east exits as Ito heads south and Jane sticks with the main entrance. Even as she sees the agents running off to help, she knows that the effort is fruitless. If Melissa was able to shake Ito, she's long gone by now, probably through one of the unarmed vents. She brings a shaky hand to her temple.

She's failing again.

* * *

 **TBC**


	6. Chapter 6

**between your ribs**

* * *

 _Your reviews mean the world to me. Thank you thank you thank you.  
_

* * *

 **Chapter Six:**

 _September 26th, 2015._

* * *

The drive to work makes her restless. The city is alive and thrumming while she taps her fingers against the steering wheel, impatient, foot flexing against the pedal. It's the usual morning rush of traffic but this time it makes her skin hot, irritates it until she's itching with need to just _move._ She needs to do something. Anything. These past few days, it feels as if she's accomplished next to nothing – has been taking step after step backwards even if her hands scrabble to pull her forwards.

Phillips had called the search off yesterday after three hours. It was clear Melissa had managed to evade them and they were going to have no luck that day.

She knows. Before she's even reached the precinct, she knows what Phillips will ask of her today. It had been clear in Phillip's eyes yesterday. They want Maura's statement. She and her whole team clearly think it will be best to send Jane along to collect it, think that Maura will be more comfortable that way, and Jane doesn't have the heart or the courage to tell them otherwise. The muscles in her neck scream with discomfort.

"Rizzoli," Phillips spots her as soon as she enters the room. "Good. You're here. I contacted the clinic our victim is staying in and the nurses have informed me that she's level headed enough to give us that statement we need. Take Ito with you."

The words are difficult to swallow. _Our victim._ Even after what she's witnessed – after seeing the bomb shelled figure that looks like Maura but _isn't,_ the tiny basement that she had been held in – it's difficult to think of Maura has anything other than her best friend. Strong, and fierce, and intelligent. Not a victim. Never a victim.

"It's nine in the morning. Pretty bad time to burst in demanding she speaks, isn't it? _Rise and shine, time to talk about your nine month long nightmare!_ "

As soon as the mocking words have left her mouth, she regrets them. Phillips lips pinch together tightly as she scowls. Crap. Okay. She can't test this woman. The agent has the power to take her off of the case if it comes to it, and she can't afford to take that risk. This case – solving it, bringing closure – is the only link to Maura she has left. It could be the only thing she ever has left of her.

"Detective Rizzoli, if you are unable to follow orders and conduct your work maturely – "

"No, no – I can!" Jane insists, holding her palms out. "Sorry. I'm sorry, Agent Phillips. I shouldn't have said that."

Phillips nods, but it's curt. "Take Ito with you."

* * *

Once again, Ito lets her drive without argument. He shoves a small notepad into the inside pocket of his blazer – the kid is a walking stereotypes sometimes, she thinks – and brings doughnuts along for the journey. An actual box of doughnuts.

"You thinking about switching to the force or something?" She grumbles, guiding them through downtown traffic.

Ito takes a bite of a custard-filled one and hums happily. "Why, you want me around?"

Jane rolls her eyes. "In your dreams, kid."

Ito shrugs and returns to his doughnuts. Offers one to Jane, but she shakes her head. She hasn't eaten a thing since the sandwich her Ito had given her yesterday morning and she doesn't plan on eating until this day is done. Even thinking about food makes her stomach riot, so she opts to settle things in her life before she thinks about her body. It's not the first time she's ditched food for the sake of a case. It's not the first time she's rejected food since Maura was taken. It's the first time she's ever been so lightheaded with it – the car is wonky in the corner of her eyes and sometimes the road in front of her wobbles.

But she knows. It's not because of hunger. It's nerves.

* * *

The nurse greets them at the reception before leading them three flights up to where Maura is staying. Everything is completely sterile, like the hospital – there are a few moments of colour, however. Patients in red dressing gowns or rooms painted dark blue or children visiting with their innocent laughter. They interrupt the grey Jane feels crawling over their skin.

3J. The name of Maura's room. Ito thanks the nurse before she leaves and cocks his eyebrow at Jane, holding up the box of doughnuts.

"Think they'll let me give her these?"

Jane shakes her head. "Constance – her mother – says they have her on a special calorie controlled diet, so that she can gain back the weight she lost safely – "

"Aw, c'mon, detective. Live a little. After nine months in a basement, I'm sure anyone would be happy to see one of these little beauties."

"Maura won't eat them," she tells him, and when he opens his mouth again she rolls her eyes. "White flour, okay? She doesn't eat things that contain white flour. Or, well, she didn't."

Ito digs into the box and pulls out a jam doughnut. "You can't keep insisting she's not your girl if you know these things about her, you know."

"And you have _got_ to stop eating those," Jane grabs the box and, as Ito whines, throws them into a nearby trashcan. "Trust me, kid, I'm saving you from becoming a walking stereotype."

* * *

The first thing she registers about Maura's room in the clinic is that it is much lighter than her hospital room back in Connecticut.

The blinds are open, just slightly, allowing enough light in for Jane to see the way Maura twists her hands nervously in her nap. Her friend is staring out of the huge window that sits on one of the four walls of the room, and although the view is obstructed by the partially closed blinds, Maura does not turn to them when they enter the room. She seems perfectly content to continue staring out of the window, sitting in her hospital bed.

Her jaw is sharper than Jane has ever known. Dangerously so. It feels as though, if she were to reach out and touch her, she would be cut. Her knuckles protrude from her hands awkwardly, too large on such delicate hands and Maura's throat constricts when Ito clears his throat to introduce himself. When she turns to them, Jane isn't quite sure whether her eyes are open are closed. They are so empty.

"Doctor Maura Isles? I'm Agent Kei Ito, and you're familiar with Detective Rizzoli, of course. We're here to collect your statement, if that's okay with you."

For a moment, Jane thinks that Maura isn't going to speak. Her skin is pallid, and if she were to close her eyes, Jane thinks that she would mistake her for dead.

"Kei Ito," Maura tests the name in her mouth as Kei sits in the chair beside her bed, pulling his notepad from his blazer. "It's a lovely name."

"Thank you, ma'am," Ito replies.

"I've never been to Japan," she tells him absently, and then she notices Jane. "Jane."

Her friend's name claws its way up her throat and demands release from her lips. "Hey, Maura."

Maura blinks slowly, too slowly. What on Earth have they got her on here?

"They told me that you couldn't see me," Maura tells her, sluggish. Ito glances between them nervously. "You still aren't coming to get me."

"No, Maur. I…"

She doesn't finish. It's true. She _has_ backed down, delved back into her work as she always does while Maura begins to pick up the pieces. But it's for the best. This slow, uncertain person before her is not the Maura she knew and loved before. If her presence causes her to become this small and passive thing, she'll stay away for as long as she has to. She just wants to see Maura happy. It's what she deserves.

Ito clears his throat again.

"Doctor Isles, would you be willing to give us your statement?"

Jane hovers uselessly by the foot of Maura's bed. Phillips will kill her if she doesn't make any notes. But she can't tear her eyes away from Maura, not when she watches the way fear ripples through her eyes, makes her curl her hands around her ribs.

"She came the night Jane encouraged me to sleep before it was appropriate for my REM cycle. It was almost half eleven at night, and I heard the engine of Jane's car as she left. Then there was a knock on the door thirty seconds later… I thought that she'd left something behind. Or was too tired to drive home. When I opened the door, someone covered my face with a cloth, and then I woke in. In… In."

Maura stares blankly at Jane, and Jane stares back. Thirty seconds. She hadn't even turned off of Maura's road in the time it took Melissa to drug and abduct her.

Ito is glancing between them, but Maura continues to stare at her. Not so much staring _at_ her as she does through her. Does she remember that night as vividly as Jane does? Does she hate her for leaving? Yeah. Of course she does. Everything she's said, the way she's acted, makes that clear enough.

It's okay. She hates herself for it too.

"The basement," Jane prompts her gently.

Maura jerks at the sound of her voice and that same terrified look crosses her again. Jane takes a step back, away from the bed, raising her palms, but Maura's breathing quickens anyway. No matter how much distance she puts between them.

"Have you come to take me back, Melissa?"

Ito reaches out to touch Maura's wrist gently as Jane closes her eyes, burying her head in her hands. There is silence around her, and she stares into the darkness, hoping that this small moment of peace can last for a few seconds more. She can't break down in front of Ito. Needs to collect herself.

"Focus on me, Doctor Isles," she hears Ito request.

"Agent Ito?"

"Yes?"

"The basement they held me in. No-one should live like that. Are they going to take me back?"

"I promise you, Doctor, you won't be anywhere that isn't safe ever again. Can you tell me about the basement? How they treated you there?"

Jane lets her hands slip from her face and finds Ito still leaning forward, fingers resting lightly on the inside of Maura's wrist, over the veins that are too bold now that she's lost so much weight. Jealousy splinters her bones and she crosses her arms across her torso to keep herself together. What she wouldn't do for one moment of contact with Maura.

"I woke. I thought of all the different drugs Melissa may have used on me. The bed was silk."

She pauses, frowning, and Ito jots this down in his notepad. Belatedly, Jane pulls her cell out of her pocket and begin recording the conversation.

"She gave me a small bowl of rice at the end of the day. I think it was the end of the day. At first, I refused. I think I may have refused for a few days. Melissa began force-feeding me when she lost her patience. She had a lot of patience in the beginning... I don't know how much time transpired while I was there. I've been told, but that time doesn't seem long enough. Bowls of rice were a blessing, after a while. Rare. Most of the time she would put her leftover dinner in front of me. Sometimes it wouldn't be more than a crumb. Once it was half of a frankfurter. That was one of the only time she ever gave me meat."

Ito glances at Jane as Maura turns slightly to face the window again. His eyes see too much, as usual.

"Mr Matthews was kind. He was rare. Sometimes it felt like years between his visits. He'd bring me books. Melissa didn't like that. But she told me that sometimes even experiments need recreational hobbies."

 _Experiments._ Jane wants to move forward, take Maura's hand, and remind her that she is not an experiment. Not everything is about science. That she is _human,_ and she deserves to be treated as much. Instead, she widens her eyes at Ito, encouraging him to press on the point. If she speaks, she thinks it'll only spook Maura.

"Experiments?"

Maura ignores him. "He brought me food sometimes. Small scraps. Once, he brought me a freshly baked roll. It was the first thing that hadn't tasted of dust in… I don't know how long. How long have I been lost, Agent?"

Ito shifts nervously. This must be new territory for him. It's fine, working a case, as long as you remain distant. Having to hear the ordeal from the victim – hear the suffering in their voice. That's when it almost becomes unbearable. It's also where you learn to compartmentalise. To put the things that hurt you away in a small file in the back of your mind and only think about when it is dark and you are alone.

"Doctor Isles, you mentioned that Melissa referred to you as an experiment. Could you expand on that?"

"I was her experiment. She tested the limits of human perseverance on me. I don't believe there's anything scientific in that at all," Maura frowns, and when she realises she has spoken against Melissa, her eyes dart to Jane. "She was clever. You were clever."

"I'm not Melissa, Maura."

It hangs in the air between them. Heavy, and dragging her shoulders down. Maura's eyes begin to fill with tears as she turns to Agent Ito, and she holds her hands up. A surrender. Jane turns away. This is more than she can handle.

"She beat me if I spoke out of place. Gave me scars to see how long I could handle pain before passing out. She taught me that if I was passive, then I was good. Being good got me rice. It meant sleeping without fresh bruises," Maura's voice hitches as she begins to cry. "In the beginning, I told her that Jane would come for me."

Jane turns, hopeful.

"She told me Jane was dead. She told me she'd killed her in her car before she'd gotten to me," Maura whimpers, fresh tears rolling down her cheeks and Jane takes a step forward. _I'm here. She did not get me. I was always going to save you._ "She forged pictures. They couldn't be real. If Jane had died, I'd know – I'd _feel_ it. But Jane didn't come. I waited for what felt like years and Jane didn't come and I don't know if she died or if she didn't _care_. I don't know what is _real,_ Agent Ito, I don't understand."

"I'm real," Jane croaks.

It only serves to make Maura cry harder. Long, heaving sobs that wrench their way through her body. Her small hands are trembling as she uses them to cover her face and then she's shaking her head _no._

"I don't _understand._ Are you dead? Why didn't you save me, Jane?"

"Maura – "

Ito stands. For a moment, he almost looks old.

"Detective Rizzoli…"

He doesn't have to finish. Jane clicks _off_ on the recording program and tucks her phone into her pocket as Maura's cries grow heavier and distorted. Soon, she's babbling nonsense and Jane removes herself from the room, grabbing a nurse in the hallway to tell her that Maura's – well, she's. She's. She's all wrong and she needs _fixing._

The nurse hurries into the room quickly and Jane sinks down to the floor, holding her head in her hands as light footsteps approach her. Ito.

He sits beside her, watching her even as she clenches her jaw in warning. This isn't a good time. She can't do company right now. She's forgotten what it feels like to let someone comfort her and now she doesn't know how to comfort the only person she prioritises higher than herself.

"You'll get through to her," Ito murmurs. "You've got this, Rizzoli."

She shakes her head _no._

She hasn't.

* * *

 **TBC**


	7. Chapter 7

**between your ribs**

* * *

 _Five hundred apologies for the delay in updating! I hope you're still interested in this, let me know...  
_

* * *

 **Chapter Seven:**

 _October 1st, 2015._

* * *

Constance says yes.

Angela is a mess when Jane picks her up at lunch time. Fixing her hair in the mirror for an unusually long time, insisting that she change clothes – Jane understands the nerves, but patience has never been her strong point. She ends up pulling her ma out of her apartment even as she protests.

"I made her lasagne," Angela says in the car, clutching the box of food in her hands. "She likes my lasagne."

"She's on a strict diet, ma, I don't think she'll be allowed – "

"That hospital food is bland and you know it. Nothing beats a good home cooked meal," Angela insists.

Jane bites her tongue. This is the first time that her mother's been allowed to feel… helpful, since Maura disappeared. Though she wanted to, she couldn't assist in the investigation. Of course she couldn't. And nobody in the family had the money to help the Isles look after Maura's estate.

When they pull up at the clinic, Jane pretends she doesn't notice her mother's hands shaking. The nurse at the reception knows her face now and grants her access to the building, letting her lead her Angela to Maura's room. Before she can open the door, Angela grips her forearm.

"Jane…"

"Ma?"

Angela blinks rapidly, fighting back tears, and Jane steps forwards to slide an arm around her shoulders. "Hey. What's wrong?"

"What if she hates me too?"

"Oh, Ma."

Angela folds into her hug easily, the box of food digging into their stomachs between them. There are no tears, just the unsteady hitch of Angela's breathing as Jane stares at the end of the corridor over her shoulder. Doesn't think about the woman inside the room. The screaming. The pain. The _Why didn't you save me, Jane?_

"She won't," Jane assures her, pulling away to look Angela in the eyes. "You're not the cause of her pain. She'll be so happy to see you."

Angela nods, still silent, and Jane squeezes her shoulders one more time before stepping away.

The room is slightly lighter again. Easy to see in. Standing in the doorway as her mother approaches Maura's bedside slowly, she notes that the necklace of bruises around her neck is beginning to fade. The spaces beneath her eyes are bright red now, eyes puffy, and Jane clenches her fists at the realisation that she's been crying. Alone.

"Hi Maura," Angela sits beside her timidly, holding the box out between them. "I brought you lasagne. I know you're not supposed to eat it because of your special diet, but…"

Maura looks away from the window slowly and Jane holds her breath.

A real, genuine and warm smile brightens Maura's pallid skin for the first time since she had been found.

"Hello, Angela."

The tears roll from her mother's eyes then. She drops the lasagne on the bed between them and reaches for Maura, holding her tightly. It is a private moment – and beautiful – so Jane steps away, closing the door behind her and leaning her forehead against it.

 _Why didn't you save me, Jane?_

* * *

When she arrives to work that afternoon, she learns that they've found a lead on Kyle. Phillips's informant from one of Boston's most mediocre gangs has spun tales of Kyle hiding out with one of his father's old partners in crime – Billy Three Hands, as his nickname served, due to a large birth defect he'd been born with that resulted in one of his hands growing eight fingers and a thumb. Real name William Stone.

She finds Ito rooting around through old case files on Stone, down in the precinct's record room. The light is dull and artificial, but she can't help chuckling when she spots the Agent sitting with his spine resting against the case files and paper surrounding him on the floor.

"Well, I can't say you're not committed," Jane says, stacking a few papers to the side so she can sit beside him. "Anything?"

Ito shakes his head. "He hasn't gotten in trouble with the law since he was released back in '89. Hardly any electronic records to date. I thought there'd be something more here… Some _sign_ of where he might be hiding with Kyle."

He stops suddenly. "How'd it go with Doctor Isles and your mom?"

Jane shrugs. "I waited outside. Drove here when Ma was done. She was… quiet after."

Ito shifts his hands nervously, busying himself with the documents before him. He's alright, Jane thinks, for a kid. She likes having him as a partner on this case. She may have had doubts about him and his age to begin with, but he's more than proved his worth and has become a friend of sorts to her.

"You know, Rizzoli, I finished my training a year ahead of the rest of my class."

She rolls her eyes, resting her head back against the files behind her. "If you're looking for a gold star, you're not getting one from me."

"I didn't mean – " Ito shakes his head, laughing. "They graduated me early. Shipped me straight out on an undercover mission with a Japanese gang operating in Arizona. Human trafficking. They said I was the only one they could trust my age with the mission, the only one fitting the right boxes who was also fluent in Japanese. Being as egotistical as I am, I went in there thinking it'd be easy… And, I guess, as undercover missions go, it was."

"Undercover missions can be tough," Jane adds.

"They can," Ito agrees. "Three weeks into my cover I'd proved myself enough to the gang. They let me in on their dealings. What those girls went through… Regardless, I thought things were going well. And I guess you could say they were. I gathered intel quickly and efficiently and as long as I kept my mind off of what was happening to the girls I couldn't save, things were going well. My mentor told me that there was only two weeks left into my cover left, tops. And then I met the leader – Hayashi – and his daughter."

Jane feels a grin tugging at her mouth. "You met a girl."

Ito laughs. "Yeah, I met a girl. Her name was Mai. And… and I don't know, I suppose it was too fast to say I fell in love. But it felt strong. It felt like love."

Love. Jane thinks of the soft warmth of Maura – round, welcoming smiles and warm, petite hands. Comforting touches and understanding glances.

All gone now.

"Mai was soft in the way that the life around her was tough and brittle. She was into me too, you know. I'm quite a stud."

Jane knocks his shoulder with hers. "Sure you are, Mister Ego."

They fall silent, and Jane looks back at the files in front of them. William Stone. One man. That's all it takes, sometimes, she thinks idly, letting the tips of her fingers press against his mug shot. Sometimes all it takes is one person to change your life forever.

"You had to leave her?"

Ito purses his lips, nodding. "When they stormed the place, arrested her father, his men… She knew it was me. Right away. She looked straight at me and I knew there was nothing I could ever do to make that right again."

"I never took you for a quitter."

Ito is silent for a moment. Pensive. He busies himself with the paper in front of him, sifting aimlessly in the same way she does. They both know there's nothing here. No way to guess where he might be hiding out, out-dated records proving to be just that. Distantly, she hears the sound of footsteps. Clunky ones, a couple rows away.

"They arrested her too."

"Shit," Jane curses.

"Yeah."

He shakes his head. "Anyway, I thought I'd never get over it. And sometimes, when I think about it, it sucks. But at the time, I thought, shit. I'm one mission into this and it's so heavy already. You know? But it got better. Things _do_ get better. Maybe not in the way that you want them to, but they do."

Jane shrugs, and when she doesn't reply, he speaks again. "Straight after that mission Phillips recruited me onto her team. Said she needed – and I quote her – unassuming, strong agents. So. Things did get better. They _are_ better."

Looking down at her hands, Jane nods. She flexes them, watches the muted scars ripple with her skin. Hoyt had haunted her for so long.

But Hoyt has faded.

This will too.

* * *

 _October 5th, 2015._

* * *

She is not the one who catches Kyle Matthews.

Phillips's source had been right. Kyle had been hiding out with Stone, an old friend of his father's. During one of the rare nights Jane had allowed herself sleep back in her apartment, one of the agents had run into an actual solid lead on the tip line. Stone had been hiding out in an apartment just a mile out of Boston, harbouring a fugitive.

They'd called her as they were escorting Matthews back.

She's already at the precinct, waiting, when they arrive with Kyle and Stone in tow. Barely five in the morning and she thinks the shirt she'd pulled on is a little crumpled, but even without coffee every edge of her is awake, vibrating with energy. This is it. This is what they've been waiting for. This is closure.

Phillips pulls her aside, a hand on her elbow.

"I'll let you in on this with me, Rizzoli, if you promise me you can restrain yourself."

"I can."

Phillips's look hardens. "I mean it, Rizzoli. You treat him any differently to any other suspect, and you're out."

Jane nods. "Yes Ma'am."

* * *

Kyle is slimmer than he had seemed in photos and videos. As she takes a seat across from him in interrogation, she gives him a once over. His hands are trembling, knees jittering and bumping against the underside of the table, his face pale and sunken. Too many drugs will have that effect. Paranoia, too, she imagines. Still. He's so… weak. She can't connect him with the man that stole Maura from her.

"Mr Matthews," Phillips begins, placing a file in front of her. "I'm Agent Phillips with the FBI, this is Detective Rizzoli. You understand why you're here today."

Kyle nods eagerly. "Y – yes I do, ma'am."

"You understand that we're here regarding the abduction and subsequent mistreatment of Doctor Maura Isles?"

"Yes. Yes, Ma'am."

Phillips clasps her hands on the table. "Do you admit to the abduction of Doctor Isles?"

Kyle shakes his head instantly. "It – it wasn't _me._ It – it was me. My sister. It was my sister's idea. I didn't want my sister to get hurt, ya – ya know? I wanted to help her."

Phillips raises an eyebrow. "It was your sister's idea?"

"It was. Ma'am," Kyle gulps. His eyes dart between them as he shifts nervously.

When Phillips doesn't answer, Jane takes this as her cue. She leans forwards, just slightly – not intruding in his personal space, but close enough to intimidate, to watch as he begins to sweat. She curls her lips into a half-smile, watching the flicker of confusion that crosses his eyes.

"Why don't you tell us how you did it, Mr Matthews?"

"Chloroform. I got – I got some from a friend when Melissa told me what she wanted to do. I seen my dad do it plenty of times. Put it on a rag – "

"I understand how chloroform works, Mr Matthews," Jane interrupts. "Did you break into Doctor Isles's home in order to drug her?"

"N – No ma'am. Melissa knocked – she's got this way about her, you know, makes you always wanna help her. Asked the doc to help her with her car, claimed she'd broken down."

"And when she stepped out – "

"I grabbed her and put the rag over her mouth. She struggled a little but it made her weak real quickly," Kyle finishes.

Jane takes a moment to breathe, settling back in her chair. Shit. She's _got_ to get through this. It's just – imagining this – hearing it fall so eagerly from the man's mouth, it fucking _hurts._ Maura wouldn't hurt a soul. Why are people always hurting her?

"How did you move her to Connecticut, Mr Matthews?"

"I got my place out there. Told Melissa she could use that – she'd already set it all up a coupla weeks before. Got a ride from a friend cos I don't register cars, y'know. The doc was small, so she fit in the trunk alright. Didn't wake till we got her back in the basement."

"And from then on?"

"Oh, well, agent – I wasn't so involved in that. Like I told ya, it was all Melissa's thing. Even dad didn't really know about it. She just used my place. Hey – you guys are cleaning out three hand's place, right?"

Jane leans forwards again. "Yeah. Why?"

"Oh, I got – in my backpacks. I took all the DVDs. You know, Melissa monitored the doc? I took all of them cos I thought, you know, evidence. But when I watched them back – shit, man. My sister's not right," he tugs on his cuffed hands uncomfortably. "In the head, you know? I didn't know she treated the doc like that."

Phillips pulls the file in front of her open and Jane bites back a curse at the photos she reveals hidden inside. She lays them out in front of Kyle, who looks away, while Jane feels bile rise in her throat as she memorises them all. Maura. They're all Maura, in her hospital bed. Maura, and her scars, and bruises, and all of her trauma. Maura – a victim.

"You were unaware of the physical violence Melissa inflicted on Doctor Isles?"

"Would you – would you put those away?" Kyle's voice wavers as his eyes flick back to the photos.

"You were unaware of the physical and _mental_ abuse your sister inflicted upon her abductee?"

"Jeez, I – I guess I knew, okay? I didn't – shit, I wasn't really _there._ It was all Melissa, y'know? I knew it happened but I didn't see it. I wasn't part of it."

Happy with his confession, Phillips puts the photos away again. Jane isn't sad to see them go, and she curls her hands around her knees, gripping desperately. Two hundred and ninety two days. Maura has endured two hundred and ninety two days of physical and mental torture. This won't fix it, will it? She's told herself catching Kyle and Melissa would fix it, bring them both closure, a thousand times over. But it won't undo the damage.

"Look, is the doc okay? She alive?"

Phillips nods. "Melissa didn't kill her."

"She's a good woman, y'know? I'd… I'd bring her things. I ain't into what my sister did – I was just lookin' out of my family. But the doc was real nice. Always real grateful when I brought her things. She even – I'd gotten myself into a knife fight a coupla days before I visited her once, and she offered to patch me up."

Kyle lifts the hem of his shirt up, revealing a bright red scar along the bottom curve of his ribs. "I didn't ask or nothin'. She just offered. She's real nice."

Jane tugs her hands through her curls, a little roughly, so that her scalp stings. Shit. That's so – so _Maura._ Helping the people who are pulling her apart.

"That will be all for now, Mr Matthews," Phillips says quietly, and Jane is out of the room in a flash.

* * *

That evening, as she sits at her desk, pouring over the same information she's been staring at for three days straight, her mother appears by her side.

"Ma?"

Angela grabs a chair from one of the vacant desks, pulling it up against her daughter's. Jane twists away from the computer at the sombre look on her mother's face, not bothering to protest when Angela grabs both of her hands and pulls them into her grip. This reads as serious.

"I went to see Maura again today," Angela tells her slowly. "And Maura… she asked me if I wanted to move back into the guesthouse. You know, so things can be how they used to be."

Jane's throat constricts. _Oh._ Maura is getting her life back – fighting for it, despite the obstacles she has faced. She's just… fighting for a life that doesn't include _her._

She'd thought –

No. She'd been stupid to think that things would be any other way than how they are. Maura, distant and confused. Her, here, lost and hurting.

"What did you say?"

"I told her I'd like to. I know it's a struggle for you and Frankie to pay my rent, Jane, and living in her guest house was always – "

"You don't have to make excuses, Ma," Jane interjects, squeezing her hands. "If Maura wants you there, then you should move back in."

In the hallway, Phillips passes, raising her eyebrows. Jane turns her head away from the agent. There's something about her – those odd moments of softness – that tug at her. She doesn't _like_ that. This woman has come along at a time when her life has turned even more awry than she could ever imagine. She shouldn't look at her with those eyes that – that remind her of _something._

"How's Maura?"

Angela brightens. "Oh, Jane, she's doing so much better. It's my lasagne, I'm telling you. Maura doesn't really eat much, but she's put a lot of weight back on – she's looking healthier, and those awful bruises she had are all gone."

Jane settles into her seat, smiling, and listens to stories about a woman emerging from her cocoon.

* * *

 **TBC**


	8. Chapter 8

**between your ribs**

* * *

 _Progress... slowly.. is happening. Your reactions to this fic mean so to me!  
_

* * *

 **Chapter Eight:**

 _October 6th, 2015._

* * *

Phillips is letting Kyle go.

"Are you _insane?"_

Jane rounds on her the minute she hears, in full view of Phillips's team. Ito grabs at her elbow, hissing warnings from the corner of his mouth, but she shakes him off angrily. She had _trusted_ Phillips. Trusted her team. Trusted they would treat Maura's case with sensitivity and determination and would stop at nothing to make sure everyone involved in the case goes down.

Phillips crosses her arms over her torso. "Excuse me, detective?"

"You're letting him _go?_ You heard what he said yesterday and you're going to let him _go?_ "

Ito grabs at her elbow again, whispering _Rizzoli, walk away,_ but she ignores him.

"It was a tough call, detective," Phillips replies sternly. "Though he may have been an accomplice in the abduction, he didn't hurt Maura in any way and we _need_ Melissa. He's going to give us her whereabouts in exchange."

Her voice is hoarse and raw. "After everything he did to _help_ her in the first place, you really think he's going to give us her location? This is him stalling time for _her._ I didn't think you'd fall for such a stupid – "

"You ought to remember your rank right now, detective."

"Oh, is that it, huh?" Jane advances, until she's toe to toe with Phillips, jutting her chin out as she looks up at the agent. Phillips doesn't blink. "This is you pulling _rank?_ You think you can swan in here with your fancy suits and technology and dictate _our_ lives?"

"You're on _my_ team, Rizzoli, and don't you forget it."

"No, you're in _my_ precinct," Jane growls. "Maura's case was _my_ case long before it was ever _yours._ Maura is _my_ friend – so this is _my_ decision!"

Ito's grabbing at her arm again, and this time she can't shake him off. He's pulling her back, curling an arm around her waist and she struggles against him furiously. _No._ They're failing her. They're failing – she's failing – they're _failing._

"Get her out of here, Ito."

"Hey!" Jane barks, stabbing a finger in the air over Ito's shoulder. "You don't _handle_ me, Agent!"

Ito finally succeeds in shoving her from the room, pulling the door shut behind him as he puffs his cheeks from all the exertion. Jane growls, swivelling on the spot and kicking the trashcan beside her. It bounces off of the wall from the force and trash scatters against the floor, only making the red she's seeing swell until it's not only blanketing her vision but curling around her skin, too.

"Damn, Rizzoli," Ito manages. "You're strong."

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, she finds herself in the precinct gym.

She's changed into an old BPD shirt and some sweatpants, pummeling into a punching bag. The gym is empty except for her and she spins, lands a solid kick against the bag and sends it flying. She catches it when it comes back, rolling her shoulders before bringing her hands up again and jabbing. Short, sharp bursts. It's not helping her anger, but it sure is exhausting her.

God, she is _exhausted._ There's no break from this – even when Maura had been abducted, long after, and everyone around her had tried to get along with their lives as if all was normal. There'd been no break for her. Her life had become muted without Maura and she didn't eat, didn't sleep, simply kept searching. And now she's back in Boston and she doesn't know how to help her, can't bring her justice, can't heal her mind.

All she does is wallow about it.

Landing one last right hook against the bag, Jane moves away, breathing heavy. She rummages through her bag and grabs her bottle of water, downing it desperately. Her skin is hot and sweaty and she wants to peel it all away, emerge from her own cocoon into someone new who has never known the pain of pulling her bones together each morning only for them to fall apart again at night.

As she moves back to the bag, she hears the door creak slightly. Without looking she knows that it's Phillips.

Jane goes back to her short, sharp jabs, keeping herself light on her feet. She's grown fitter since Maura disappeared. Though her diet had become a little unhealthy, exercise had been one of her only outlets. Long nights spent here in the precinct gym or mornings that she couldn't sleep through spent jogging for miles through the city. She'd missed someone there with her, though. Maura jogging beside her, facts rolling off of her tongue.

"Imagining Matthews?"

Phillips says it with a pointed look towards the punching bag, moving to hold it as it ricochets after each of Jane's hits.

Jane clicks her neck. "You, actually."

She aims a particularly hard punch against the bag, making Phillips laugh.

"I don't doubt that."

Silence falls between them for a few minutes. Jane doesn't look at the agent, but she knows she's watching her intently. Just continues punching away at the bag, throwing monumental force behind each punch as Phillips braces it against her shoulder.

"You here to throw me off of the team?"

Phillips frowns. "No I – I'm here to apologise, actually."

Jane falters before her next punch. "You are?"

"I am," Phillips confirms. "You were right. This was your case long before it was mine. I should've consulted you on the decision, at least."

"You're damn right you should've," Jane mutters.

Phillips winces as Jane kicks at the punching bag. High. Makes sure to keep her back straight as she curls her hands into her chest and pushes all of her force into her foot. Jane can't prevent the smirk that plays at the edges of her lips.

"I'm not going back on my decision, Rizzoli," Phillips says sternly. "I know you want to see everyone go down for this, I know you're seeing it in black and white, because that's what happens when you're close to a case. But look at the _facts._ Maura spoke positively of him. She treated him, even when his sister held her captive. Kyle abducted her, yes – but that's the _limit_ of his involvement, besides bringing her food and books. What would he have been tried with, Jane? You know he would've been sentenced to a couple years at most, and probably – on good behaviour – would've only done a couple months."

Jane stops, hands swinging by her side as she pants.

"That's what Maura is _like,_ okay? She's good. Maura is a _good_ person. If Melissa had walked into that basement needing treatment, she would've helped her too. It doesn't matter to her. That's just how she is. That's how she's always been."

"I'm sorry."

Jane's jaw drops. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me," Phillips says, shrugging. "I know Maura is the victim, and she's been through a hell of a lot more, but you've been through the shit too, Rizzoli. Everyone can see that. So – I'm sorry."

Jane clenches her jaw, shaking her head. The ends of her curls from her ponytail brush against the top of her spine and she closes her eyes against the feeling. Light, barely there. She can almost imagine it to be the tips of Maura's fingers. Imagines the warmth of her body behind her, breath against the slope of her shoulder, voice warm.

She shakes the feeling away, walking over to her gym bag. Phillips follows her and Jane begins unwrapping the fabric from around her hands. Her hand wraps are getting old now, a little worn from overuse.

"So has he given up Melissa's whereabouts yet?"

Phillips shakes her head. "No. We're trying to get him in contact with his dad now. Apparently he has no idea where Melissa is, hasn't known since Connecticut cops stormed his place and they both bailed."

"Could be risky," Jane points out. "Getting in touch with the dad. He's probably heard about us bringing in Kyle and Stone by now."

"Maybe. But it's worth the risk, right?"

Jane nods, tossing her wraps into her gym bag. "I guess."

Phillips shifts uneasily beside her.

"You know, all I've heard since I started running this investigation is how hard you'd searched for Maura. I don't just mean the department. I mean _you._ And now that she's been found, I barely see you leave this precinct. You practically live here. What are you afraid of, Rizzoli?"

Jane looks up, finds the green of Phillips's eyes, and thinks, _Maura._

"Not everyone comes back as the person they used to be."

* * *

Ito catches her before she leaves the precinct that evening, pulling her into one of the observation rooms with his hand behind his back.

"This is all so sudden," she jokes.

"You wish," Ito shoots back, and then he produces a package from behind his back, holding it out to her.

"What's this?"

"I made copies of the footage. You know, the stuff Melissa captured of Maura?" Ito looks nervous, and she grabs the package, scared he's going to change his mind. She doesn't think the kid's ever gone against protocol like this before. "I know it's… It's a horrible thing to see. But after her reaction at the hospital, I thought maybe it'd help you understand it. Why she is how she is."

If she were a hugger, she thinks she would crush Ito against her. Instead she squeezes his shoulder roughly, smiling.

"You're a good partner, kid. You know that?"

Ito's eyes widen. "I'm Mr Ego, remember?"

* * *

Jo Friday curls around her feet as Jane settles on the couch that night. She places her laptop in her lap as she rummages through the package Ito had given her, looking for the disc labelled _one._ She knows that she won't get through all of the footage. Certainly not tonight.

She takes a swig of her beer as the disc loads up, pressing _play_ hesitantly.

Maura.

She's tucked beneath the covers, face slack from drug-induced sleep. In the bottom right hand corner, the date and timer marks it as one in the morning, the day after she'd been abducted.

There's nothing for a long time, just Maura sleeping. She considers skipping to see what happens when she wakes, but finds she's perfectly content with this. This moment before the real fallout. Maura – though drug induced – is relaxed. She's unaware of what's ahead of her.

When Maura first wakes, she's still confused, a little drowsy from the chloroform. It's at least five minutes before she moves from the bed and begins searching for some form of exit. Studies the minimal room around her curiously, running up the stairs and tugging on the handle of the only door in the basement. It's this that triggers a response from Melissa, who flies in through the door and pushes Maura back down the stairs.

Jane looks away when Melissa begins stripping Maura, despite the way Maura fights against it. There's no sound, so she simply guesses when it's okay to look again, peeks back at the screen and finds Melissa pulling plain black sweat pants over Maura's hips, accompanied with a plain white tank top. The image is _wrong._ Maura would never wear sweat pants. Especially not ones that bunch around her ankles, a little too long for her legs. She feels the hairs on the back of her neck rise.

The first few days of footage that she scrolls through go as she expects. Melissa feeds her minimal food and is otherwise estranged from the footage. Maura paces for hours each day, presses her hands against the walls, as if she's waiting for some sort of trap door to fall open. Though she knows it won't, Jane finds herself wishing it just would. To save Maura from the months of torture she has ahead of her.

The first time Melissa hits her is eight days into the footage.

Jane hisses, looking away when Melissa lands a solid punch against Maura's stomach.

Jo Friday looks up at her, tail wagging.

When Jane dares look back at the screen, Maura is on the floor, curled up against the wall. Her mouth mouths one word again and again. _Jane._

She presses eject on the DVD immediately. She can't do this – she thought she'd be strong enough, but after witnessing one _punch_ she feels sick to her stomach.

Jane shoves the package of DVD's as far away from her as possible, chugging the last of her beer for courage. Shit. She's a mess. Maura dealt with this every day and she can't even handle an hour's worth of _footage?_

When she clicks back onto her laptop, she sorts through her files, looking through her photos. Some are older ones her mother had let her scan once, ones of her and Frankie and Tommy when they had all been kids, all scabby knees and lanky limbs. There are a few still lingering of her and Casey, older ones of her and Frost that she'll always keep, but mostly – they're just her family and Maura.

She's not big on taking photos, but there are photos here of Maura laughing. Smile wide, carefree. Their cheeks pressed together. Actually. She remembers that day – Christmas. Hadn't her mother taken a video?

She finds it quickly. _Christmas 2013._ Their last Christmas with Maura.

The video opens on Frankie, sitting beside Tommy, who's holding TJ up to the camera proudly. The little baby gurgles, producing a spit bubble and Jane chuckles softly. She needs to remember to call Tommy. Have some time with TJ. Her nephew's young innocence always makes her worries melt away.

Angela moves from the front room to the kitchen – easily, since they're all in Maura's house – and Jane holds her breath when Maura and herself appear onscreen, fussing over the turkey.

"Jeez, Ma. Get that thing out of my face," she complains onscreen.

"Jane," Maura admonishes. "I think it's a lovely idea, Angela. Documenting special occasions is always useful for looking back on fond memories – "

She finds herself laughing when the onscreen version of herself fixes Maura with a look.

"Maura. My hand is currently up a turkey's ass. This is not my idea of a _fond memory._ "

Maura chuckles as Angela chides her for her language, but onscreen she just rolls her eyes.

"I do wish you'd let me stuff the turkey, Jane. I'd be perfectly happy – "

"Oh no. I've seen what kind of fancy French stuff you were going to put in this turkey's ass. You are going _nowhere_ near it. Plus, I know you'd be pulling out pink gloves – "

"They're black actually," Maura interjects. "Pink was out of stock."

The video fades to black slowly, fading back in to reveal them all sat around the table eating Christmas dinner. The colours are rich, golden lights around them and paper hats on their heads, looking like idiots. TJ sticks his hand straight into a pot of mint sauce and Tommy groans, scooping him up and rushing off camera to clean him.

"Crackers!" Angela calls out, waving one in front of the camera lens. "Time for crackers."

Opposite her, the onscreen version of herself picks one up and holds it out to Maura who sits beside her. They're both wearing ridiculous Christmas sweaters – probably due to her mother. Maura frowns, watching as Angela and Frankie tug on their crackers, ridiculous prizes spilling out of them.

"Jeez, Maura, just tug on the other end," Jane says, and then chuckles. "That's what she said."

"Jane!" Angela chides.

Maura wraps her hand around the cracker, frowning. "This seems a little pointless…"

"It's _fun,_ Maura."

"Well, I know this is a British tradition, but it seems unfair. Though I do yoga and jog with you, it's mostly my core that's strengthened. You're very clearly stronger than me – you've a naturally muscular body – "

"Muscular," Angela repeats grumpily.

"Oh, no, I think Jane's muscular frame is very beautiful," Maura assures her. "She is extremely well toned. That strength is viewed as attractive to – "

"Just pull the damn cracker, Maura," the onscreen version of her says, blushing furiously.

The struggle over the cracker lasts no longer than five seconds, Maura's eyes widening in surprise when she ends up with the larger portion of the cracker.

The video is almost fifteen minutes long. Jo Friday jumps up onto the couch beside her and she allows it, running a hand across the dog's back lethargically, watching memories of their happier times. Exchanging presents; TJ attempting to pull at the wrapping paper around his; Frankie spilling eggnog down his shirt.

And later, when her brothers and nephew have left, and her mother is cleaning the dishes despite everyone's protests. The camera left on the side, at just the right angle to capture herself and Maura watching a Christmas movie. _Home Alone,_ she thinks it might be, based on Maura's criticisms of the plausibility. The room is darker now, warm, and they're tucked beneath a blanket on the couch, Jane watching Maura with something longing in her eyes.

"Merry Christmas, Maura," Jane murmurs.

Maura's eyelids droop and she smiles sleepily, pillowing her cheek on Jane's shoulder.

While watching, Jane finds her hand reaching for the same shoulder automatically, fingers closing around nothing.

"Merry Christmas, Jane."

* * *

 **TBC**


	9. Chapter 9

**between your ribs**

* * *

 _This has been a long time coming, huh?  
_

* * *

 **Chapter Nine:**

 _October 14th, 2015._

* * *

Kyle pulls through with Melissa's whereabouts, and they storm the place.

Phillips leads them through the door once it's been broken down, yelling _FBI! Get down on the ground!_ to every individual they find. Meth addicts cooking in the front room, another passed out in the kitchen. Ito leads two other agents through the rest of the rooms downstairs as Jane follows Phillips upstairs. And that's where they find Melissa, shooting up in the bathroom.

Phillips stands aside, sweeping a hand towards Melissa.

"I think you deserve this one, Rizzoli."

Her hands are numb as she fumbles for her handcuffs, staring at the woman who's barely conscious in the bathtub. She anchors her hands beneath her armpits, pulls her up and out and Phillips helps steady her, watching with a smile as Jane pulls Melissa's hands behind her back. Her mouth tastes like cotton when she hears the _click_ of her handcuffs.

"Melissa Matthews, you are under arrest for the abduction of Maura Isles."

* * *

Korsak finds her when they return to the precinct, roping her into a giant bear hug that she can't bring herself to fight against. Rests her forehead against his shoulder as her body shudders with relief. Finally. _Finally._

"You got her, Rizzoli," he murmurs, and she's glad it's just the two of them in this quiet corridor. Grips him tightly as a cry strangles her. "It's almost over."

* * *

They have to wait five hours for Melissa to sober up.

The woman officers lead into interrogation is a hell of a lot different to the one they'd found shooting up in the bathroom. Melissa holds her shoulders wide and broad, jaw sharp as she scowls at them. She's small, but with arms slim but muscular as she shakes off the officer leading her to the table in the middle. Dark hair falls wild around her face but her eyes flash with something else; something that has Jane's fingers curling slowly into fists.

"Miss Matthews," Phillips greets her once they're all sat down. "I'm Agent Phillips with the FBI, this is Detective Rizzoli."

"I know who she is," Melissa growls, spitting on the floor.

Phillips raises her eyebrows. A low growl rattles at the bottom of Jane's throat, scowling at the woman across from her. It's now that she sees why Maura has this confusion between the two of them. They've the same dark hair, dark eyes, sharp looks. They're in no way twins, but after such prolonged manipulation Jane understands why Maura has blurred the lines between them.

"Do you understand why we're here today, Miss Matthews?" Phillips asks, pulling out the same photos of Maura she had when they'd interrogated Kyle.

"You haven't got anything on me," Melissa says, shaking her head. "You're just some desperate cops trying to get some fame from a big case."

At that, Jane leans forwards. "We haven't got anything on you? Melissa, we caught you in a drug den, high on heroin."

"So what you gonna do? Arrest me for possession?" Melissa goads them. "Woah, yeah. The FBI must be really desperate for someone to bust, huh?"

Jane shoves one of the photos of Maura right in front of Melissa, finger pointing at one of the scars running along her navel.

"You see this woman? This woman you _abducted_ and treated like an _experiment_? She can place you there. Knows your name, what you look like – and we have the tapes you recorded of your treatment of her. You think we haven't got anything on you? You're _wrong."_

If it were possible to foam at the mouth, Jane thinks that that's how she'd describe the way Melissa changes. Gone is the cocky demeanor and she leans forward, inches away from Jane's face, face sharp and mean. Jane feels Phillips press her fingers against her elbow, warning her to move away, but she simply clenches her jaw in retaliation. She won't back down. Not from this.

"You know she used to cry for you, detective?" Melissa teases, a grin beginning to blossom. " _Jane, Jane, Jane will save me –_ it was _pathetic._ And of course, you didn't get to save her. Did you, hmm?"

"You son of a bitch," Jane mutters.

"Rizzoli," Phillips warns.

"Do you like her now, detective? Do you like my work?"

"She is _not_ your work," Jane growls. "What the Hell is wrong with you? To take an _innocent_ woman and subject her to that? What – daddy didn't love you because he didn't get a son first? Is that it? You were just a disappointment from the beginning, huh? You wanted to prove yourself."

"Kyle is _weak!"_ Melissa yells, jumping to her feet and Jane stands too, hand automatically flying to her holster. "I hurt her and _broke_ her and he just brought her _food_ – and Dad puts _him_ in charge? Kyle?"

Phillips grabs her arm when Jane moves to speak, shaking her head _no,_ and Jane almost pushes it. Almost. After all, the case is practically over – Phillips would have nothing to kick her off from. But… no. She wants to be here. To see this end.

So she steps back, keeps quiet, and lets Phillips take the lead at the end of this interrogation.

"Miss Matthews," the agent says. "Please sit down or I'll be forced to restrain you."

Melissa's eyes flick to Jane, narrowing. Phillips repeats her name and she, slowly, accepts her seat again, as Phillips sits opposite her. Jane simply moves away, leaning back against the mirror and watching Melissa over the agent's head. Melissa stares back at her, eyes burning.

"Melissa Matthews, do you confess to the abduction of Doctor Maura Isles?"

She doesn't blink. "Yes."

"Do you confess to the mental and physical torture of Doctor Maura Isles?"

"Yes."

Phillips slides the photos away and a smirk curls on Melissa's lips – slowly, like smoke filtering through the crack beneath a door. A warning.

"Why her?" Jane asks, crossing her arms as Phillips stands to end the interrogation. "Why choose Maura?"

Melissa tilts her head.

"Who would make a better lab rat than a doctor?"

* * *

Phillips debriefs her team after, and Jane sits at the back of the room with Ito, eyes wandering. Phillips explains how they'll be leaving the precinct by tomorrow morning, preparing for the court case back at their base in New York – there's more than enough evidence to convict Melissa. They'll have Maura's testimony – which, according to Ito, she's agreed to give at court – as well as Kyle's (who will have to be placed into witness protection to escape the wrath of his father, much to her disgust). Not only do they have their testimonies, they have fingerprints at the scene to tie Melissa there, as well as the tapes recording the torture. It's a solid case.

Jane worries her lower lip between her teeth. Without this case, what connection does she have to Maura?

"So, you sad to see me go?" Ito interrupts her thoughts.

Phillips's team flicker around them, preparing to leave now that it's the evening and the sky is darkening outside. She laughs, shaking her head as her partner through this nightmare grins.

"Are you kidding? I can't wait to kick your sorry ass out."

"Said like a true cop," Ito says, grabbing his coat hung over the back of his chair. "Say, how about you and I grab a beer? Celebrate the end of our quasi-partnership."

"You know, as much as I'd like that I – I have somewhere I think I need to be."

Understanding dawns upon Ito's features in an instant. His quick understanding doesn't bother her so much anymore – maybe she really will miss him, after all.

"I get you. Hey, it was cool working with you, you know?"

Ito holds out his fist and she rolls her eyes, bumping his fist.

"Later, kid," she says, slipping her blazer on.

As she turns to leave, waving across the room at Phillips, Ito calls her name.

She half turns impatiently. "Yeah?"

He shrugs. "She's lucky to have you. I think you need to remember that."

A lump does _not_ rise to her throat. It absolutely does not. She probably just… has a little dust caught back there, or something.

"Thanks, Ito."

* * *

By the time she parks by the clinic, it's almost nine, meaning there's only an hour of visitation time left. Still, she sits for a while, staring up at the stark white building in front of her, the place holding Maura. Her ma has told her that Maura only has a week left in this place before she's strong enough to leave and go back home – already, she can't believe it's almost been a month since they found her best friend and all she's had is mere snippets of her. Or – not _really_ her at all.

The nurse lets her into the ward right away and she hesitates outside of Maura's room, suddenly questioning her motives. What is it she expects out of Maura here, really? She's made it clear enough that she's not ready to have Jane back in her life, if at all. Will telling her that she's caught Melissa help sway her in any way?

No matter. She needs to see her. _Itches_ with this need – it doesn't matter how many steps backwards this takes them. She just needs one moment with Maura.

The room is quiet except for one of the monitors beside her bed. Jane makes sure to close the door behind her gently, afraid of spooking Maura, who has her head buried in a book.

The blinds are pulled up, moonlight filtering in from outside but Maura has a lamp on her bedside table, glowing softly. It turns her hair golden, the skin of her neck deliciously blank – no more bruises. There are still scars, of course, one running from the crease of her elbow and halfway up her right upper arm, as well as a multitude of ones hiding beneath her clothing. She's only seen those ones in photographs. She's not quite sure how she'd handle seeing them in person.

"Maura."

Her voice is ragged, questioning – reaches out unsteadily but curls beneath Maura's chin and makes her lift her face up to greet her. There's a flicker of something between those eyes. Not fear – something she's uncertain to name.

And then those eyes fall mute.

Maura clears her throat, resting her book in her lap.

"Hello, Jane."

Slowly, she settles in the chair beside Maura's, leaning forwards just slightly. Maura sways a little, and she holds her breath. She just. Needs. To be close her.

She just needs this moment.

"How have you been?"

 _Stupid,_ she chides herself after the question slips free. What a stupid question. Maura has been in a _clinic,_ for God's sake.

Maura smiles, though.

Small.

But real.

"I've been doing a lot better," she murmurs. "I'll be a healthy weight again soon. And my ribs only have a few more weeks until they're fully healed."

"Ma told me. She said you'd be out of here in a week?"

Maura nods slowly. "Optimistically, yes. There could still be… unforeseen complications. But otherwise, I'll be home in one week."

"That's – that's really good, Maura. I'm glad you're doing better."

Maura's jaw isn't so sharp to look at anymore. A little softer around the edges, like the Maura she remembers.

This Maura is still watching her patiently, and Jane swallows harshly. She needs to stop comparing. Yes, Maura has come back as a changed person – someone who might never love her the way she wants her to, or accept her. But Maura has been through horrible things. Terrible things. Things no human should have to endure. And though she's been working the case, seeing what it is she's been through, there's been no real connection there. She's seen Maura, seen her fierce and terrifying reaction to her, and thought, _this is not my Maura._

But it _is._ This is Maura – just a little different, a little frayed around the edges.

Oh, God. She wants to hold her and never let go.

"You're here to tell me about Melissa," Maura states.

"Oh. You… already know?"

"Angela stopped by earlier. She said it was all the precinct was talking about. She said you were a hero," Maura pauses, frowning slightly. "You were the one who caught her?"

Jane nods. "I guess you could say that. I arrested her, yeah, but… I wouldn't have caught her without the FBI's help. Phillips. She let me help her team."

Maura nods, humming a little, and Jane lets herself look away, out towards the window. Rain is beginning to fall outside, blurring her vision and she watches the rivulets chasing after each other down the window. She thinks she could stay here, with Maura, forever.

"You don't feel real to me, Jane."

She looks back, and doesn't hesitate.

She curls her hand around Maura's.

Maura's breath hitches but Jane doesn't pull away. Lets her hand envelope Maura's completely, a little surprised at how soft her skin is. She doesn't squeeze, doesn't hold her too tightly – doesn't want to suffocate her. But already, hope clatters loudly between her lungs, gripping fiercely to this moment.

"Do I feel real now?"

Maura stares at their hands.

"I don't know that I…" Maura pauses, worrying her bottom lip. "Jane, I still need space. It's hard to – tell you apart. To trust that you're really here. To stay, I mean."

"But?"

"But I want to. I want to trust you more than anything," Maura whispers.

Jane shifts closer, tests their limits when she pulls their hands to her lips and presses a gentle kiss to Maura's skin. Maura remains quiet, and there's nothing but the sound of the rain pattering shyly against the window, as if it's afraid to intrude.

Things feel full.

* * *

 **TBC**


	10. Chapter 10

**between your ribs**

* * *

 _I'm so so nervous about this chapter. Please let me know what you think!  
_

* * *

 **Chapter Ten:**

 _October 24th, 2015._

* * *

It's not that she hates the new ME. It's just that she isn't _Maura._

Not that she can describe Doctor Howell as new. She's been filling Maura's position since a month into Maura's abduction – and she's good (Jane almost shudders at the idea of what would've happened if Pyke had gotten the job instead). There's no denying her skill and commitment. It's just that she's… bland. There's no passion to what she does; no tidbits of information Maura normally throws out into the open with a nerdy glint in her eyes.

"Good morning, Detective," Howell greets her over a dead body that day, already taking notes. "You have a thirty year old white male – your colleagues have already recovered his wallet and ID, I believe – who I suspect died approximately between two and three this morning."

"Cause of death?"

Howell shrugs, her black hair falling over her shoulders. "Right now I see none of the usual evidence of blunt force trauma, or asphyxiation, nor bullet wounds – "

"So you're telling me he just dropped dead?"

"Now, I didn't say that, Detective," Howell says, laughing.

Korsak approaches her soon after with the victim's wallet. Michael Groves, a single father of a fifteen year old boy, too many blocks away from home for his death to be anything but suspicious. Frankie greets them with bagged evidence of a needle that looks a little too bloody to be normal.

"I figured he must've been drugged, right?"

Jane raises her eyebrows. "They called you in on this case too?"

Frankie smiles, rolling his shoulders. "Actually, I was officially assigned to homicide this morning. Cavanaugh called me in about an hour ago to tell me."

"No way!" Jane wraps her one arm around his shoulder, squeezing. "My baby brother finally made it to homicide."

"Two Rizzoli's in the same department? God help us," Korsak deadpans.

"Yeah, well. _He,"_ Jane points at Frankie, "is officially the _other_ Rizzoli. Okay?"

* * *

While she's eating lunch in the precinct café later – and, God, a cheeseburger has never tasted so good – her mother corners her about moving one of the last boxes of things she has into Maura's guesthouse.

"Sure, Ma," Jane wipes her greasy fingers on the napkin. "I can bring it round straight after work. That alright?"

"Sure," Angela says, taking the seat opposite Jane. "Now tell me, why didn't that brother of yours tell me he's working with you now? Vince was here just now telling me – "

"He only got the job this morning, Ma. Seriously," she rolls her eyes. "Anyway, you almost had a heart attack when I told you I was working for homicide. What's got you so riled up about him working there?"

"A mother deserves to know these things about her children."

Jane takes the last bite of her burger and hums, sipping on her coffee. She doesn't really need it now – the case so far has been pretty straightforward. The victim's son had pointed towards his estranged mother, who had recently been attempting to get back in contact with him despite a restraining order, and they'd found that she was nearby in the area and had no alibi. Howell had completed her autopsy, too, and Frankie had been right – the guy _had_ been drugged. Coffee has simply become part of her routine.

"Speaking of, how's Maura?"

"Oh, she's very happy to be home, Jane. I knew she would be. I made her gnocchi for her first night home and she loved it – these past couple days she's had help, though."

"Help?"

"You know. A nurse. Her mother must have hired her," Angela huffs. "I know her ribs are still healing, but it's a waste of money, if you ask me."

"Nobody asked," Jane replies. "But does that mean Constance isn't around to help?"

"I don't know. Maura hasn't mentioned her. When I asked, she just said something about Europe."

"Europe? Seriously? Her daughter has barely recovered and – "

"Jane," Angela sighs, grabbing her daughter's hand. "People can only put their lives on hold for so long."

* * *

Jane curses under her breath as she struggles with the box of her Ma's things. Of course, she'd neglected to tell her that the one forgotten box at her old apartment is full of _bricks –_ not literally, but as Jane almost stumbles holding it with one hand while she locks her car she thinks it might as well be. Jeez, how can stuff that's pointless enough to be forgotten even weigh this much?

It's funny, how she still has so many old habits. It's been months – almost five, she thinks – since she's been here. The last time she'd come here she'd ducked beneath the police tape and slipped into Maura's house, her room – searched through her things. Not for the case. Just for some sort of connection _to_ Maura. There'd been journals she'd seen her reading before, and blouses she'd remembered her wearing, and photos lining the mantelpiece that she had seen time and time again. The familiarity had almost swamped her, and she'd wound up sitting cross-legged on Maura's bed, fingers drifting over the silk covers.

Still, now, she remembers exactly how far it is she has to stoop to open the guesthouse door with her elbow. Remembers the soft squeak it makes before it opens fully, and how much force to nudge it with so that it doesn't slam open, simply drifts.

"Ma?"

She calls out for Angela a couple more times, but the woman doesn't appear. Strange, since the guesthouse is unlocked.

"Oh."

Jane startles, the box spilling on the floor, when Maura's voice splinters the silence.

Groaning, Jane crouches, beginning to gather the items that had fallen out of the box – a framed photo of her, Frankie, and Tommy as kids; an Italian cookbook; a novel she remembers her mother talking about three months ago but hadn't spoken of since. After, she dumps the box on the couch, surprised when she turns and finds Maura still standing in the doorway.

"Maura?"

Maura smiles timidly. "Jane."

Without thinking, Jane lets her eyes rake over Maura's frame. Her mother had been right after all. Maura _is_ doing better. Silhouetted by the light spilling in through the doorway, the familiar curves of Maura's body – unfurling slowly but surely – are a little more prominent now, even as her hands twist awkwardly in front of her own body. Her chin is tucked down while she's looking up at Jane in a way that is more than shy – more than timid – perhaps… still afraid?

"I'm sorry. Ma asked me to drop off this box of her stuff, I didn't mean to… intrude."

Maura shakes her head softly. "Angela is celebrating your brother's new job at The Dirty Robber with Korsak and Nina. She said she wouldn't be home until the evening."

"She said that?"

"Yes."

Jane growls. "She conveniently left _that_ out this morning."

"I thought I heard someone in here. So I – "

"So you just decided to investigate?" Jane asks hotly.

Maura flinches. "I'm sorry. "

She says it like a reflex.

Jane holds her hands up, palms forward, a peace offering.

"No – I just meant maybe you should take a little more precaution. I mean – your ribs are still healing, aren't they? You're not fit enough to… No, I shouldn't. I shouldn't have said anything."

Maura's hands are trembling now, and she stuffs them into her pockets. The sound of her skin against cotton makes her blush, as if she's afraid of taking up space. Jane wants to step forward, to demand that Maura fill up more of the room – the space between them is too _empty,_ too filled with the corpse of what was.

"Jane."

The way she says Jane's name. It is like she's reaching out, slipping her arms around her waist, tugging her closer, demanding that push. Jane sways forward, just a little, still leaving a foot of space between them. The closeness is dizzying.

"My psychologist told me that you aren't going to hurt me. I asked my mother and she said that you're my friend. That you would never hurt me," Maura pauses, and when she next speaks, it's like a question. "You'd protect me."

She'd spend a million lifetimes answering. "Yes. I would."

Maura frowns a little.

"I'm sorry. For needing to be… so far from you. It's just that being close to you affects me in ways that are bad for me, and I think that you understand that needs to come first for now. At least, I hope that you do. I don't think your mother does."

Jane laughs. "No, I don't think she does, either."

A small smile grows on Maura's lips again. Curling upwards like it's trying but it's just a little stuck, and it makes hope bloom in Jane's throat. When she smiles, the flower of hope overspills, the petals brushing against her skin and making it sing.

"Any time you need me, Maur. I'll be here."

Maura tilts her head.

"I think… I know that."

* * *

 _November 5th, 2015._

* * *

Jo Friday is eating her leftover takeout from the box while she lounges on the couch, feet propped up, watching some old cop movie she hasn't bothered to check the name of. She's found at least five inaccuracies in the first seven minutes, and she lets her eyes slip closed, fingers curling around the blanket she'd pulled over her. Maura would've found more inaccuracies. Smarter ones. She wishes that her own brain could fulfill that space, but she'd never learned the facts that Maura would spill into the air between them; she'd simply trusted that Maura would always be there to provide them.

Jane jerks awake, startling Jo Friday, when her phone rings. She groans, praying that it's not a body, as she plucks it up from the floor beside her.

It's definitely not a body.

The caller ID reads _Maura._

"Hello?"

"Hello, Jane."

She sits immediately. "Is something wrong?"

"No. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to worry you. I should – "

"No," Jane protests. "Don't ever apologise, Maura. I told you… if you need me. I'm here."

They fall silent, and slowly, Jo Friday creeps back over to the takeout box. The last of the noodles are gone in an instant and she trots away, to her bed, curling up perfectly overfed and content. She probably should've googled whether Chinese food is safe for dogs before giving Jo Friday some.

"Do you still have your key to my house?"

"Yeah," Jane says, eyes flicking over to her keys on the table. It's the only other set she owns beside her own.

"Good," Maura replies. "Would you… Come over?"

"You want me to?"

"I'd like you to, yes," Maura confirms. "If you can."

"I'll be there in ten."

"See you."

The words _by the way, I love you_ clog in Jane's throat and then the sound of the tone rings in her ears. Maura's already hung up. Shaking her head, Jane grabs her keys, stuffs them in her pocket with her phone, and is still pulling her boots on when she's halfway out the door.

* * *

Maura's house is silent when she lets herself in.

It feels wrong. It feels like it did before. With Maura gone.

"Maura?"

Hesitant, afraid.

"I'm here, Jane."

Balm.

When she moves into the house, she finds Maura sitting at the table, both of her palms pressed against the table. There is a glass of water in front of her, and she's staring at the rim of the glass, eyes blurry. Jane pauses, assessing her. Maura's hair is pulled back haphazardly, wide locks falling free and brushing against her collarbones. The only thing right about the picture is the fact that she's wearing silk pyjamas.

"Do you want me to sit?"

Maura nods, pointing to the chair opposite her. Jane accepts it slowly, afraid of startling her.

"Maura…"

Her voice reaches out when she can't.

"I'm okay. Really. My pain relief medication has simply worn off, that's all," Maura tells her.

"Do you need more? If you tell me where it is – "

"I just took it," Maura pauses when she realises she's interrupted, watching warily. Jane doesn't complain, keeps her face carefully relaxed. Maura allows herself to breathe again. "It'll be twenty minutes before it takes effect."

"What about your nurse? Or – whatever it is. Ma said you had hired help?"

Maura shakes her head. "While I appreciate the sentiment from my mother, it wasn't a necessity. I am perfectly capable of managing my own medication and stopping when I feel that I am pushing my limits. After all, my nurse didn't even know the correct _breathing_ exercises to relieve broken rib pain."

"The scandal," Jane gasps mockingly.

Maura tilts her head slightly.

"Are you making fun of me?"

"A little," Jane admits, setting her hands on the table, until they're barely inches from Maura's. "Do you want me to stop?"

"No. I quite like it."

Maura retracts her right hand from the table, runs her finger around the rim of her glass.

"You know, in Britain, it's Guy Fawkes Night."

Jane's heart flutters. This feels like Maura.

"Yeah?"

Maura nods. "They build bonfires and create dummies of Guy Fawkes, who attempted to blow up the Houses of Parliament as part of the Gunpowder Plot. He belonged to a group of Catholics who opposed the Protestant King – King James I. As well as these bonfires, the British often host firework parties, or attend firework displays. Celebrating the failed plot."

"After their high tea, of course."

Maura laughs – a _real_ laugh, loose and free. The space between them feels rich with something happy and Jane wishes she could contain it, to watch over them forever. She'll never tire of hearing that laugh.

"Oh yes, that stereotype is true," Maura says. "In the same way that the stereotype that all Italians are hot-blooded mob bosses is true."

Jane leans forwards, a little daring, and Maura doesn't pull away.

" _Maura,_ " she gasps. "Did you just tease me?"

"Maybe," Maura hums.

When the content glow slips from Maura's skin – it's not so pallid now, her skin, though her mother has told her she's seen Maura taking vitamin supplements – and she falls silent, Jane doesn't push. Patience has never been her strong point, but Maura Isles is. So she studies the way Maura's hair catches the light, the way her eyes are a little sharper now, much more aware than the woman who had been pulled from the basement over a month ago.

How many dinners has she had at this very table? Laughing and drinking beer and eating good food with her mother and Maura, or her entire family and Maura, or sometimes just the two of them.

Still, every time, she had watched Maura through the laughter and thought, _she is the most beautiful woman I have ever known._ The woman had been everything to her. She still is.

She's not quite sure why it took losing her to see that.

"Jane… Your mother was here earlier."

"You guys have dinner together again?"

"We did. Angela likes to monitor my eating habits," Maura confirms, nodding. "She was surprised to find out that I'd sent my nurse away. She said that you and I are similar."

"Really?"

Maura nods, and Jane resists the urge to shake her head and fight the point. They are _not_ similar. Jane is rough, Maura is soft – she is patient and kind and light. Infinitely smart and beautiful. Jane doesn't undermine herself very often, but she will always pale in comparison to Maura Isles. And that's okay. She likes it that way. It makes her strive harder to be better for her.

"She said that, after Hoyt… after he scarred your hands. You didn't want any help. And I remember that that was what you were like after you shot yourself. I had to push my way in. Is that how you feel it is with me, Jane?"

"It doesn't feel like I'm pushing. It feels like I'm intruding."

Maura frowns. "I see."

Maura settles both of her palms back down on the wood of the table. Flat.

"Jane, can I ask you about Hoyt?"

"Anything."

"How much did it hurt? When he – when he stabbed your hands?"

Jane lays her palms flat against the wood like Maura, their fingertips touching. Maura's eyes rest on the white, raised scars there. A little faded over time, but still noticeable. Sometimes still have her itching. Normally, she doesn't like putting them on show. It's like walking into the middle of a battlefield and saying _here, this is my weakness, this is where you can hurt me._

She wants Maura to see.

"It hurt like Hell," she rasps. "Jumping off of that bridge, shooting myself in my stomach – those were all things that hurt, but they were things I chose to do. Hoyt took my control away. He took it away and the pain doubled. I've never known a pain like it."

Jane presses her elbows against the wood and lifts her hands, her palms turned towards Maura.

"When he had you trapped…"

Maura doesn't finish.

"That was the worst part," Jane murmurs. "No escape. Just blind faith that maybe someone would find me and save me from him."

Maura lifts her own palms, slowly, and meets Jane's eyes.

Soon, she presses her hands against Jane's. The base of the palm connects first, firm, before the rest of her palm melts against Jane's, fingers mirroring her own shyly. Her hands are a little smaller, and Jane flexes her fingers against them, making her smile.

It is the first physical contact Maura has initiated with her since she'd been found forty-five days ago.

"You're the strongest person I know, Jane. That's how I want to remember you now. Not as Melissa. Not as the dead woman she led me to believe you were. Not as… worse."

Maura is silent, and Jane is worried that she'll slip away, so she curls her fingers around Maura's hands, until they're clasped tight.

"Worse?"

Maura looks down at the table.

"The woman who wouldn't come to save me."

Jane just grips her tighter.

* * *

 **TBC**


	11. Chapter 11

**between your ribs**

* * *

 _Thank you all so much for your kind words on the last chapter. I'm sorry in advance if over the next month the updates are really slow - I have a lot of university work to do and, obviously, Christmas is right around the corner, so I won't have as much time to write as I normally would. I hope you stick with me anyway!_

* * *

 **Chapter Eleven:  
**

 _November 16th, 2015._

* * *

Maura is in the precinct.

Jane's knee bounces with agitation as she sits at her desk. Paperwork. She's doing _paperwork_ when Maura is in the same building as her.

"Why don't you go see her? She'll probably appreciate that."

Korsak's voice slices through the silence that has descended upon homicide – it's a slow day, which only serves to torture her more. She's been staring at the clock for what feels like years, desperate for the hands to tick a little faster. Unsure as to whether she needs to get away as fast as she can or stay here, near Maura, forever.

"You don't get it, Korsak. She wouldn't."

She stops her knee from bouncing and focuses back on her computer screen. Paperwork. Grinding, mundane paperwork. She's been through the motions of it more than enough times for it to numb her brain from thought, until she becomes something that simply selects which buttons to click. But. Maura. When it comes to Maura. There is no numbing that.

"I don't get it because you won't talk about it," Korsak says. "And I get that. The only person you ever really talked to was her, and how can you talk to her about the problems you both have?"

"Korsak – "

"Jane," he sighs. "I'm going down there. I'm going to talk to her. Come if you want. You can't run away forever."

* * *

They say that the department is offering Maura her job back.

The rumour can't possibly true. It doesn't sit well in her brain. How will Maura come back, if she insists on being distant? And what about Doctor Howell, who took her job when Maura went missing?

Jane sighs and heads down to the cafeteria for a coffee –

And immediately bumps into Doctor Howell in the elevator.

"Detective," she greets her. "I suppose you've heard the news."

"What news?"

Anyone else would've rolled their eyes. Howell remains plain as ever.

"Doctor Isles has been offered her job back. Head medical examiner of the commonwealth of Massachusetts."

"What about you?" Jane asks. "You're a good ME. They can't just drop you."

Howell smirks. "Detective, I've never been fired from a job in my life."

The elevators open on the ground floor, and Howell steps out as Jane remains stuck still. She frowns as Howell turns back to look at her over her shoulder, eyebrows raised.

"Susie told me Maura was loved in this precinct. And still is. Why would I ever neglect someone a loving home?"

* * *

Maura looks beautiful.

Everything about her is like the version of herself she had been before the abduction. A silk blouse, straight black trousers, heels that she'll never understand the comfort of and a smart blazer pulled over her outfit. Her hair is pulled back in a complicated bun she remembers watching her do some mornings, in the rare moments Maura had been running a couple minutes late and she had stood eating breakfast in her kitchen.

Maura's hands wrap around the ceramic of the mug Angela offers her. Jane pauses, watching from the lobby, as Maura smiles up at her in thanks. She is more than beautiful.

Korsak reaches over to squeeze her hand and the contact seems to surprise Maura. After all this time, Jane still can't quite believe that Maura doubts the fact that she has friends here – not just friends of convenience, or co-workers, or friends of friends. Just. Friends.

Jane turns away.

This is not her moment.

* * *

She ends up in the morgue.

Bodies have been piled away where they should be, a couple lab assistants running last minute checks on cases they'd completed last week. Other than that, the morgue is blissfully empty. Slow days can have their benefits, she supposes.

Jane lets one of her fingers run along the edge of one of the empty tables. Frankie had laid on this very one, and Maura had performed a surgery she'd never felt comfortable to before on him because Jane had asked. She'd saved his life. And risked her career in the process.

How many times has she stood in this very room with Maura? She had begun to think of this place as hers. When Howell had begun working here, it had felt like someone had broken in, taken apart the locks Maura had left on the place and left their fingerprints on everything. Files organised in ways Maura never had; equipment left in different places – Howell was even left handed, so the way she had performed everything had been the opposite way that Maura had.

This had been Maura's once.

She tries not to think about the time she thought she'd see her laying here on this table.

* * *

 _March 8th, 2015_

* * *

Everything is spinning.

The inky night spills ahead of her ceaselessly and she follows it, her pulse beating staccato in her ears. Her feet are heavy and sink deep into the mud with each step while her hands curl around the set of keys she holds in her hands. They dig sharply into her fingers. Did she lock her car? How long has she been walking? How long until the end? When she reaches the end, and finally stands still, will she sink into this sodden mud too?

"Detective Rizzoli. Thank you for coming," it's a voice, but it's distant. She wanders towards it aimlessly and it sweeps a hand in front of it. "Doctor Wiley can lead you to the body."

The medical examiner swims into her view. Deep brown eyes, a crease in the skin forming above them. Her lips downturn and something stops Jane from moving. Finally. Maybe she'll just keep sinking and sinking and then this whole nightmare will be over. Maybe then she will finally be able to sleep, reaching for Maura.

"Are you alright, Detective?"

"Where's the body?" It comes out raw.

She needs to know. Needs to know if it's Maura laying there. In the ground.

They'd called her at two in the morning, when the rest of the world was sleeping, and she was awake on her fifth coffee with trembling hands reading Maura's file for what felt like the three hundredth time. They had called. And they had said, _matches physical appearance._ And _almost four months of decomposition._ And _could you ID the body, Detective?_ As if they had no idea. As if they had not known. That this is not just a body.

 _Almost four months of decomposition._

Maura, decaying and alone.

Everything is spinning.

"Follow me, Detective."

The medical examiner stops, and for a moment Jane does nothing. Stares blankly ahead. She cannot look. If she looks. That makes it real.

If she closes her eyes. Imagines Maura bright and alive. Then that is real instead.

"Detective?"

When Jane collects herself, she finds the medical examiner has lead her to the end of a shallow grave. Only a couple feet deep. Is this all they thought Maura deserves? God, no. They couldn't be more wrong. She will dig through this mud with her own hands to give Maura everything she couldn't before.

"Detective Rizzoli," Doctor Wiley. Distant and quiet. "Is this Maura Isles?"

She crouches. Places one hand on the ground. Soil seeps through the spaces between her fingers.

The body is small enough to be Maura.

For one small moment.

She almost thinks it is.

* * *

 _November 16th, 2015_

* * *

Water.

She needs water.

Her skin is clammy and gross, the memory of that body too fresh and strong and she bursts out of the morgue. One of the lab technicians looks up at her strangely but she moves past in a blur, headed towards the nearest toilets. She just needs to splash a little water on her face. Calm down for a second. Then she can go back and complete that paperwork and leave here, go back to her lonely apartment with Jo Friday and takeout.

There's crying. When she walks into the toilets.

Jane groans, resting her head back against the door. Whoever it is, they've heard her come in now, she can't just _leave._

She heads over to the sinks, begins running the water and allows it to soothe her palms. It's nice and cool, and she runs her wet hands over her face, lets it smooth out the parts of her that are rough and damaged. Repeats to herself _just do the paperwork and go home,_ again and again in her mind, until the images of the rotten body have escaped her.

The crying grows louder. Followed by startled, panicked breaths.

Damn it.

"Hello?" She knocks on the cubicle door they've locked themselves in. "Everything okay?"

The noises stop. For a moment.

"Hello?"

The cubicle door drifts open, and she finds Maura stood behind it. The toilet lid down, so that when she sees that Jane has registered who it is, she can sit back down and reach for the tissue paper again.

"Maura…"

Without thinking, she steps in and locks the cubicle door behind her. Maura's breath hitches before it launches back into a shallow and sporadic pattern again, the tears rolling fresh down her cheeks. Jane flounders for a moment, uncertain of how close to move, before she opts for squatting down in front of her, resting her hands on Maura's knees. The contact makes Maura jerk but she refuses to move away. She needs this. She needs this push.

"What's wrong, Maura?" It's a loaded question. Maura simply shakes her head.

Her blazer hangs on the back of the cubicle door along with her bag, blouse untucked from her pants. The beautiful, put together woman from earlier has shed her layers and revealed her vulnerable underbelly.

No.

No. She is no less beautiful now than before.

"Maura. You've got to talk to me. If you want me to help," she coaxes her gently.

"Panic attack," Maura gasps, grabbing and holding on to one of Jane's hands tightly. It hurts, but she allows it. "Fast heart rate, shallow and irregular breathing, sense of fear – "

"I understand, Maur. You don't have to give me the Gray's Anatomy definition," she tries to joke but it falls flat. "What do you need? Some water? I don't – I don't know what to do here."

"No water," Maura shakes her head. "I don't – want that. I want. I don't. Jane."

"Shh. Shh, it's okay," Jane whispers, blinking away tears that threaten to rise in her own eyes. "How about – we face what set this off. What set it off, Maura?"

Maura shakes her head again. "I don't want to talk about that."

"Okay. That's okay," Jane assures her. "Want me to help you take your mind off of it instead? Why don't you try slowing down your breathing, hmm?"

Maura places a hand on her own chest, eyes closing as she attempts to slow her breathing. Her other hand squeezes Jane's again.

"There you go," Jane encourages. "In and out. Nice and slow. Ten seconds each time, okay?"

Maura follows her instructions, and attempts to slow her breathing. She keeps her eyes closed, and Jane thinks that she understands why, even if Maura doesn't. Why look the source of your fear in the eye when it's the very thing you're running away from?

"Do you remember, when we met, how we didn't click right away?"

A hint of a smile tugs at Maura's lips.

"I was working for Narcotics. You thought I was a hooker. I think I can take it as a compliment to my acting skills that you bought that lie so convincingly."

"You weren't acting in the precinct," Maura points out, dabbing at her eyes with a tissue.

Jane smiles. "Maybe not. I can be quite nasty when I want to be, huh?"

Something flickers behind Maura's eyes, so Jane diverts the topic immediately.

"You know, I went through your entire music collection while you were gone."

The sentence steals Maura's breath. "You did?"

"I did."

Two months after Maura had disappeared she had sat in her front room listening to disc after disc. It hadn't helped soothe things in the long term, but she had managed to fall asleep on the couch peacefully that night, dreaming of Maura approaching her with wine and the music playing soft in the background, her kisses infused with the tart taste of strawberries.

"What did you think?" Maura asks, blinking away the last of her tears.

"I think half of the names were made up. I mean, Tchaikovsky? Who was responsible for _that_ name?"

Maura huffs. "Jane."

The teasing has done its trick, though, and Maura is remarkably calmer than she had been. The spaces around her eyes are still wet from tears, and her hands still shake in Jane's. But the fight for air is gone.

"My point is. Maybe we still don't click in all ways… But I can make you laugh."

Maura's hand squeezes Jane's.

"Yes. You can," she admits on a whisper.

She's glad that Maura is looking at the ground when she says it. The smile that bubbles inside of her flows over and she can't bring herself to stop it.

"C'mon. I'll drive you home," Jane murmurs.

And, by some strike of luck, Maura lets her.

* * *

Maura's house is a little different from how she remembers, now that she takes the time to look around.

There are things out of place. Disorganised in ways that go against what she believes in. The rug in her front room is a little askew, and crumbs are sprinkled on the kitchen counters, as if she hasn't cleared away. It isn't very… Maura.

"I've been given a few weeks to decide whether I will accept the job offer or not," Maura says, without Jane having to ask. She places her bag on the couch and sits tentatively on the edge of it, as if her own house is not hers to touch. "Howell is considering several offers – one from New York – in the meantime. Plus, Doctor Reyes must clear me to be mentally stable – "

"Of course you are," Jane interjects.

Maura curls her hands around her knees. "To perform my job, Jane. She has to make sure that it won't… ruin my progress."

Jane nods.

"So, uh… How are you doing? You know, progress wise."

Maura purses her lips, knotting her hands together.

"Mental illness is unpredictable. While physical recovery often varies from person to person, there is no pattern to who will or will not recover faster from a mental illness. I am very lucky that I have the money and the ability to access the best medical care that I can, and that I do not have to worry about going back to work right away as I can support myself financially for a long time without income. But. It is about perseverance," Maura frowns. "Pushing myself day after day. And it's unfamiliar. While I have had theoretical discussions about mental illnesses I have never really known anyone who has suffered from one or experienced it first hand until now. It's… very different to treating physical ailments. I cannot simply take medication and hope it'll go away."

"No, you can't," Jane agrees softly. "But I believe in you, Maura. And you have all of us here to support you. You know that, don't you?"

"I do…" Maura presses her hands together, almost like she's praying. "Sergeant Korsak came to wish me well today."

"I know. He was worried about you. We were all so worried about you when you went missing. Me, Frankie, Nina, Korsak – my Ma was beside herself. Your disappearance was never something quiet in our lives."

When Maura looks over at her, Jane notices that her eyes are dewy. Oh, God. Has she made her cry again?

"Jane, can I ask you something?"

"Shoot."

She swallows before she asks, and Jane is transfixed by the hollow at the bottom of her throat, between her collarbones.

"You're a lot fitter than you were before."

"You think so?"

"Definitely."

"Well, uh. I guess I took a lot of my anger out on the punching bag. I trained a lot."

Maura nods, and her hair falls in her eyes. She pushes it away with hands that are startlingly still.

"Did your… increased fitness aid you in catching Melissa?"

"Are you asking if I used excessive force?"

Maura shakes her head. "No – No, I. I mean. Did you have to push yourself… hurt yourself… to catch her?"

 _Push yourself… hurt yourself…_

It is perhaps the first time Maura's expressed concern for Jane since she's returned and it takes her a moment to move past the emotion that swells like tsunamis within her lungs.

"No," she answers honestly. "It was a peaceful arrest. Nobody got hurt. Not me. Not any of the agents. Not Melissa."

Maura releases a long, slow breath. "That's good. I… I'm glad."

She runs her hands along her pants and curls them around her knees. The sleeves of her blouse are pulled up to reveal the scar that runs along her right arm. It is still as bright as the day Jane had first seen it. It makes her knuckles sigh as she fists her hands.

"But, Maura?"

Maura looks up.

"I think I'd do just about anything for you. I'd hurt myself again and again as long as it keeps you safe."

Tears spill over the edges of Maura's eyes then but she doesn't look away from Jane.

"I want to believe that. So desperately," Maura tells her quietly.

"I'll show you," Jane promises, and Maura reaches out to take her hands.

* * *

 **TBC**


	12. Chapter 12

**between your ribs**

* * *

 _I'm so, SO so sorry for the delay. Uni and life has been getting on top of me lately. I hope you're all still here regardless._

* * *

 **Chapter Twelve:**

 _November 25th, 2015._

* * *

For a moment, she doesn't believe that the woman at her door is Maura Isles.

She's dressed like her. Heels and skirt and blouse and handbag. But she's almost trembling on the spot.

And her hair is so much shorter.

"Maura?" Her friend doesn't speak. "C – come in."

She knows that this is a huge step. Maura reaching out and coming to her like this, without asking permission first. As Maura steps into Jane's apartment warily, Jane has to force herself not to think back to the times when she would not need permission. When Maura took this entry for granted, like Jane would at Maura's apartment.

"You've cut your hair."

Jane closes the door and turns to Maura. The medical examiner brushes her fingers against the ends of her hair self-consciously, where it slants against her neck halfway between her jawline and her shoulders. It's… almost harsh looking. Completely straight and so not _her._

"Melissa used to use my hair against me," Maura says absently, and Jane's mouth fills with cotton. "I didn't wash it for weeks in the end. Now I don't remember what it feels like for it to be clean."

Jane approaches her slowly. "And now, Maura?"

"It feels new. I feel… new."

New. The word is difficult to swallow and she stares at the woman in front of her. There are aspects of her that are so different to how she used to be. She is so timid and submissive compared to the woman who once dragged her off of her couch after being shot and forced her into her uniform. The facts that Maura knows are still there, rare but sometimes spoken. She is Maura. But she is not the same.

She knows that this will all be okay someday.

"Jane, I wanted to… I wanted to tell you. That I – I'd quite like it if you were involved in my life again."

"You want me in your life?"

"Yes," Maura confirms. "I've been… discussing you with Doctor Reyes recently. I realised that, before all of this happened, you were the only person I had."

"That's not true," Jane protests.

"It is. I think it… still is," Maura purses her lips. "Jane, I was so terrified of you when they rescued me. I didn't think you were real. Melissa told me you were dead so many times that I almost believed it. When I woke up I thought you were – her. Trying to pass in plain sight. And when I didn't believe it, when sometimes I would just start to wake and I'd remember where I was all over again, I'd think about how you weren't coming for me. I told myself that so many times that when I finally understood that you weren't Melissa, that you weren't dead, I just felt disconnected from you."

Jane steps forwards and Maura steps back automatically. She pauses when she realises what she's done, so Jane steps forwards again, and Maura holds herself in place.

"Tell me what to do," Jane pleads. "Maura, I don't understand how to make this right. I try so hard and – "

And nothing ever pays off. The guilt of not saving Maura swathes her shoulders and is her only companion late at night.

Maura smiles. Eyes watery.

"Keep being you."

* * *

Maura stays for lunch.

Shame blooms across Jane's skin when she realises she has little to offer Maura, but manages to create some sort of salad to accompany a pizza she finds in her freezer. It is the kind of thing they used to eat, when Maura would lecture her that she needs to eat more greens and Jane would try to steal a slice of her pizza. This time, Maura makes no comment on the food at all. She eats everything Jane serves her like it is a gift.

She never wants to know what it's like to be hungry like that.

"So… the court case is in a couple weeks," Maura murmurs when she is finished eating. "Will you be there?"

"Of course."

"To testify?"

Jane reaches out across the island to rest her hand on Maura's arm without thinking.

Maura tenses, blinking suddenly. She doesn't move her arm. Jane slowly retracts her hand.

"You know I'd be there whether I testify or not," Jane says quietly.

The moment seems to pass. Maura fixes her eyes on her empty plate and places her hands in her lap. They don't talk about it.

"I don't know if I can do it."

For a moment, Jane's not quite sure whether she's imagined the words or not – Maura is so quiet. Her lips stay so still. But she notices the way the her shoulders begin to shake, her lips pressing together as though she's a second away from tears. And oh. _Oh._ Maura is confiding in her.

"We'll all be there for you," Jane tells her. "You don't have to go through this alone."

Maura's eyes snap back to Jane's.

"Please don't say things like that. I don't know – I don't know how to believe – "

"I'm going to keep saying things like that. Because it's true. Every single one of us are going to be there for you during that case. And we'll sure as Hell be there after. Don't be afraid to testify, Maur. She's just one woman," Jane says fiercely. "And you're worth ten times as much as her."

Maura's hands raise, fingers curling around the edge of the counter. Knuckles white.

"She's just one woman… She's just one woman…" Maura begins to gnaw on her lower lip. "If she's just one woman, how did she manage to hide me away for so long?"

"She doesn't have you. You're safe now, Maura. She can't hurt you anymore."

The tears really do spill from Maura's eyes then. She reaches up with trembling hands to wipe them away angrily, skin flushing – Jane makes sure she keeps still and quiet against her will. There is nothing she has ever wanted more than to pull Maura to her and hold her quietly and forever.

"I still dream about her. Sometimes I wake up and I still think that I'm there – that my bedroom, and all of my things, and even your mother are just my imagination, my own coping mechanism to deal with being held hostage. I never thought I'd get out. I'd given up hope. And now I'm here… and everyone wants things to go back to normal. My mother is already giving conferences in Europe again and my father has called once. Cavanaugh has offered me my job back. You – you treat me like your friend. But I don't know how to be normal, Jane."

Jane smiles. "You were never normal in the first place."

It's a risky thing to say. But Maura looks up at her, tears still shining in her eyes for a moment, before a timid laugh breaks free from her.

"No. I suppose I wasn't."

* * *

The world outside feels peaceful when she gets ready for bed that night.

She takes a long, warm shower, feeling her muscles loosen in ways that they haven't in months. Jo Friday settles at the foot of her bed as she dries her hair and pulls on her comfiest pair of sweatpants and an old BPD t-shirt. Jane pulls her curtains shut, switches her alarm on, and climbs into bed. When she closes her eyes, the space beside her almost feels warm.

It doesn't take her long to fall into sleep. Gently, and dreams swim into her view, in the shape of Maura's smile.

She's shaken out of sleep two hours later by her phone ringing.

Jane groans, reaching for her phone blindly. _Please not a body. Please not a body._

"Rizzoli."

"Janie?"

Jane sits up immediately, rubbing at her eyes. "Ma? What is it? What's wrong?"

"It's Maura, honey. She's… She's been threatened."

Jane leaps out of bed, searching for her boots and keys in the dark. She accidentally steps on Jo Friday's tail.

"Ma, listen to me – Don't do anything, okay? Stay right where you are. And don't let anyone in. I'm leaving now."

"Hurry," her Ma says, and then Jane is almost flying out of the door.

Her mother hugs her tightly when she answers the door ten minutes later. Jane searches over her shoulder for Maura, finding her sitting on her couch silently, hands in her lap and staring at the floor. Her freshly cut hair makes her features almost look a little sharp.

"Janie. Oh, it's awful."

"Tell me what happened. Maura?"

Her mother follows her over to the couch. Angela sits beside Maura, wrapping her arm around her shoulder and squeezing tightly. Maura does not respond, and Jane approaches her slowly. Crouches in front of her and curls one of her hands around Maura's knees. Maura does not respond.

"Maura? What happened?"

But Maura stays silent, so Angela fills in the silence between them all.

"I was just coming over to make some evening tea – you know, Maura has that fancy kind I like. And I found an envelope on the floor. Well, it wasn't addressed to anyone, so I opened it – "

"Where is it?"

Angela points to the coffee table. Jane grabs it immediately, rising to stand as she reads the note inside the envelope. _Testify and you're dead._

Well, it's not exactly creative. But she feels the fear of God travel down her spine and flare out through the rest of her body.

"This is the only one?"

"Yes," her mother replies. "I couldn't – "

"It's not the only one."

Jane and Angela both still, turning to look at Maura. Jane's mouth falls open to say something, but Maura's eyes are sharper than she's ever seen.

"I received the first one the day after Melissa was caught. This is the third one since then. All of them follow the same sort of theme – if I testify, and have Melissa put away, then they'll come after me."

"You've been getting these for over a _month?_ Why the Hell didn't you tell me?"

Maura looks back down at the ground. She does not answer.

Jane pulls an angry hand through her hair. "What did you do with the others?"

Maura takes a long, deep breath before answering.

"I threw them out."

"You _threw them out?"_ Jane yells. "Are you crazy?"

"Janie – "

"Not now, Ma," Jane snaps. "Jesus, Maura. This is why you're afraid to testify, isn't it? Because of these threats? What the Hell were you going to do – _not_ testify? It's not like there isn't a Hell of a lot of evidence to send her down anyway, we have her confession; recordings of the basement; her brother's testimony – "

"I didn't know that!"

Maura is on her feet, fire blazing her eyes and Jane has to take a step back.

"I didn't know, okay? I know _nothing_ about this case except for what _I_ have experienced. And I know what Melissa is capable of. So forgive me if I wanted to choose my life over death."

For once. Maura is not trembling.

"Okay. Okay I – I understand," Jane says, stunned. "But, uh. I need to call this in, Maura. Phillips will want to know about this. I'll contact Ito – you met him – and they'll probably send some of their team down. For tonight though uh, I'll call Korsak and Frankie. They can watch the place and I'll keep watch too – "

"You can stay here."

Maura says it firmly.

"In the guest room. You still have some of your things here. So, if it makes you – and Angela – feel better, you can stay."

Jane nods, stepping forwards to take Maura's hand.

"I'll stay."

* * *

 **TBC**


	13. Chapter 13

**between your ribs**

* * *

 _Thank you so much for your reviews! Each and every one of them makes me smile._

* * *

 **Chapter Thirteen:**

 _November 26th, 2015._

* * *

She wakes to the sound of voices.

It's weird. Even when her mother lived with her she had simply woken to the sound of her alarm beeping annoyingly in her ear. But now – now, her eyes peel open and morning filters in through the curtains softly. She sits upright, and on the other side of the door, she hears muffled voices. Calm. Maura.

Pushing her grogginess aside, Jane leaves the luxury of the bedsheets and heads towards the kitchen. It's there that she finds her mother and Maura sitting at the kitchen island, coffee cups sitting between them. Steam is still rising off of them.

And Maura. Maura in a nightgown and a robe – silk that ripples gently when she turns to look at Jane. It settles mid-thigh, revealing a small and fading scar that curls above her knee. Still, though, Maura is smiling. Hair dishevelled. She is soft. She is smiling.

"Jane," she greets her quietly. "There's some instant coffee in the cupboard, if you'd like me to make you some."

"I can get it," she tells Maura, resisting the urge to let her hand drift across the small of her back as she passes her.

It feels… remarkably normal. Almost as if no time has passed. Her mother rambles on about her work hours and a new class she's thinking about taking in her spare time. Maura looks at her out of the corner of her eye and blushes when she's caught. This is how it used to be. So Jane stands in front of the coffee machine, lets her hair down from her ponytail and uses it to blanket the grin that she can't shake from her lips. The mug is warm when she cups it in her hands.

"How did you sleep?" Maura asks when Angela finishes speaking, and Jane drifts forward, stands beside her.

"Surprisingly well. Eventually."

"I really wish you hadn't made yourself stay up so late," Maura tells her. "You're already sleep deprived."

"I'm fine."

"No, you're not. I've noticed that your reactions are particularly slow, even given your caffeine intake, which I imagine is higher than it used to me. Not to mention the bags under your eyes – "

"Gee, thanks."

"Am I not allowed to worry about the health of my best friend?"

Maura takes a sip from her mug after she says this. Jane can feel her ma's eyes on her, so she quells her smile, letting her hand drift across the small of Maura's back when she passes her. It seems to startle her a little and she chokes on the sip she's taking.

But there is nothing haunted in her eyes when Jane looks back over at her.

"I guess I'll let the comment slide," Jane says. Maura sets her mug down and smiles.

* * *

Angela finally leaves them alone an hour later. She takes some leftover lasagne out to Korsak and Frankie before heading back to the guest house to shower and change. Phillips and her team are due to arrive sometime in the evening, and that information seems to calm her a little.

While she leaves, Maura tells Jane she's going to take a shower. She watches her retreating form, waiting for the sound of the bathroom door closing, before setting to work.

Maura's house isn't right. For Jane – living among a mess and clutter is just how it _is._ She doesn't care about whatever the hell kind of bacteria are living on her kitchen counter, since they haven't killed her so far. But Maura? This isn't right. Things askew; clutter everywhere; crumbs all over the counters. This isn't Maura's house, like this.

Jane grabs the vacuum and starts in the kitchen. Even if she can only manage to do a quick clean of the kitchen and the front room, that will help, right? It will help Maura fell more, well… Maura. She's sure. So she vacuums as quickly as she can, still doing a good job, before rectifying the mess. Throws out magazines Maura has begun hoarding and places medical journals she's left out half read back in her study, following her organisational system of books. Grabs a cloth and some polish and starts cleaning the dust that has gathered through the two rooms. It's a messy job, and she's certain she misses things that Maura never would have before, but when she places the rug back where it used to be things feel like they're a little more in place.

Maura emerges with hair perfectly blowdried and outfit perfectly matching while she's still wiping down the kitchen counters. Her eyes widen.

"Jane?"

A few curls escape from Jane's ponytail and she pulls it all free from the hair tie, shaking away what falls in her face. Maura watches with her mouth beginning to fall open.

"I thought that the place could use with a little brightening up."

"You – " Maura stops, still absorbing the difference. "I didn't even think you knew how to use a vacuum."

Jane smiles, propping her hip against the counter. "Yeah, well, don't get used to it. This is a one time deal."

Maura swallows, frowning as she looks down at her feet. Jane feels her own smile slipping off of her face as she abandons the cloth and looks away, clearing her throat.

"Anyway, Phillips and her team will be here soon. Couldn't let you host them like – "

"Jane."

After taking a steadying breath, she feels Maura's hand on her elbow. She turns back slowly, finding Maura right in front of her. Looking up at her softly, as if Jane has just handed her all of the stars in the universe.

Oh, God. How much she wants to kiss her can only be quantified by the beats of her heart.

"You didn't need to do all of this," Maura says. Still, she reaches down, tangles her hand with Jane's and squeezes.

"Course I did."

Maura smiles.

Jane smiles back.

* * *

Existing in silence with Maura is a blessing.

There are still so many elements of their old life together there. She sits on Maura's couch with a beer complaining about god knows what documentary she is forcing her to watch while they wait for Angela to return for dinner, sharing a blanket. Just like it used to be. Maura only rolls her eyes, not paying the slightest bit of attention to Jane's critiquing of the show.

On screen, a crab scuttles against the sea floor.

Jane shivers. "All this ocean crap makes me cold."

Maura rolls her eyes. "It's not crap, Jane. But I'll go turn the thermostat up."

As Maura lifts, one side of her blazer slips from her thin shoulders, the straps of her vest top doing nothing to cover the size of the scar that stretched across her left shoulder blade. Jane is on her feet before she can blink, Maura already hastily pulling the blazer back in its place. She flinches away when Jane's hands reach for her, turning her eyes to the ground.

"Please, don't."

"Please," Jane murmurs. She doesn't know what she's asking for. "Maura, I – "

"I don't want you to see."

"You think we don't all carry our own scars?" Jane snaps, but softens when Maura takes a frightened step away. "Maura, I have scars. My hands. My stomach. You know that. You've seen them. But you want to know the worst ones? They're the ones left inside my _head._ Every time I leave you I worry that I'll never see you again. And I live with that every day, Maura. Every time."

Maura looks up at her curiously, using her fist to hold her blazer together. "You do?"

Jane half-laughs, raking her hand through her unruly hair. She turns back to the couch, setting herself back down and resting her elbows on her knees as she looks down at her feet and confesses things she thought would remain hers only.

"The day you disappeared, Maura, the moment I realised – God, I don't even know how to describe it. And then I spent every waking moment looking for you, searching for some clue I was missing. You were such a… a big part of my life, you know that?"

She looks up at Maura, who takes a small step towards her. "I know the feeling."

"Yeah, well… Maura, I really thought I'd never see you again. I didn't know how to live with that. I don't _ever_ want to learn how to live with that."

Maura moves to sit beside her. Jane looks up, muscles still all wound tight from confessing, but Maura is so close, right _there,_ all soft and smelling like vanilla and elderflowers and smiling through tears. She turns so that her back is to Jane, letting the blazer slip off of her shoulders and tugging the strap of her t-shirt aside so that the burn scar is revealed completely. Jane reaches out hesitantly, letting the tips of her fingers brush against it. Maura flinches a little, but when Jane pauses, she simply looks over her shoulder at her to give her an encouraging smile.

The scar is almost the size of Jane's palm. It's a light pink, almost settled, but she can imagine the way it used to be. Red raw and painful and ugly.

"Second degree burn. Melissa gave me this two days before I was found," Maura says quietly, still watching Jane over her shoulder. "These kind of burns are supposed to take three weeks to heal, but I didn't have anything to treat it with at the time. I suppose it could've been worse. I was open to infection. But, thankfully, I didn't contract anything."

Jane lets her hands fall and Maura pulls her blazer back on, turning to face her.

"C'mere," Jane murmurs.

Maura scoots closer, until Jane can wrap her arms around her completely, pulling her close. She resists for a moment, until she familiarises herself with these arms that have held her so many times before. Her arms wrap around Jane's waist, cupping her shoulder blades as she rests her cheek on her shoulder. The whisper of her breath against Jane's neck makes her suck in a sudden breath.

"You're so strong, Maura. More than anyone gives you credit for," Jane whispers, turning her head just slightly to press a light kiss to her forehead. "I hope you know that."

Maura says nothing, just smiles and holds her tighter.

* * *

Her ma cooks them dinner. Maura hovers nearby, desperate to help her, the gracious hostess as always. Jane settles on the couch, stretching her legs out, pretending to watch the game on TV. Out of the corner of her eye, though, she watches the way Maura's hair falls against her cheek, the way she smiles when Angela finally agrees to let her prepare the salad. Things are going to be okay, she thinks. It has taken her a long time to reach this place, where things feel peaceful, where it no longer feels like Maura is going to be snatched from her the moment she looks away.

No. Instead she only looks at her and feels love bubble over in her chest. It's taken her a long time to come to terms with that too. Dismissed it as nothing but her accepting her as part of her family, as one of her constants, someone who would drop everything to help her. But her eyes are drawn to the soft skin pulled over Maura's collarbones, the shape of her eyes as she allows herself to laugh. She is in love with Maura Isles, her best friend. It is the best feeling she has ever known.

"Jane!" Angela sighs, setting her hands on her hips. "Stop being so lazy and set the table."

"I'm just trying to watch the game, Ma," she protests weakly, glancing at Maura and winking, who smiles wryly before focusing on chopping tomatoes.

"Jane Clementine Rizzoli – "

"Alright, alright," she groans, lifting from the couch and bowing mockingly. "I'm just going to the bathroom first – and then I promise to return and be the perfect slave."

Her ma grabs the dish towel and throws it at her head. Jane ducks, laughing, hearing Maura laughing too.

But as soon as she heads down the corridor to the bathroom, she feels an arm rope around her waist, restraining her as the intruder presses the muzzle of a gun against her temple.

"You're going to do exactly as I tell you, detective."

* * *

 **TBC**


	14. Chapter 14

**between your ribs**

* * *

 _I'm very, very excited to see what you think of this chapter._

* * *

 **Chapter Fourteen**

 _November 26th, 2015_

* * *

Jane closes her eyes, taking a slow and deep breath as her hands form fists at her sides. The intruder's breath washes over her ear – slow, and regular, so they're calm, this isn't the first time they've done something like this – and he grips her tighter, pulling her away from the bathroom. Her feet stumble slightly and he growls.

"Back to Maura Isles, detective," he mutters, forcing her to take one step forward.

Jane resists, gritting her teeth. No. He's not getting anywhere near her Ma and Maura.

"That wasn't a question," he spits as Jane tries to twist free of his grip. He's holding her too tight, anticipating her movement, so knocks the back of her legs with his knees to make her own buckle as he half-drags half-carries her to the front room, in full view of her Ma and Maura.

Maura is the one to notice first.

Jacob is still making her move, gripping her too tightly for breathing to be easy. Yet all she can do is watch the way the colour drains from Maura's face, the way the chopping knife falls from her hand and clatters against the counter, the way she takes two steps back and shakes her head as though she can wish this all away.

The clatter of the knife makes her ma turn to Maura, frowning.

"Janie!" She cries, reaching out, only stopping when the man digs the muzzle of the gun hard enough against Jane's temples to make her gasp.

"I'm fine, Ma," she gasps.

Tears glitter in her eyes and Jane looks to Maura, who has her hands over her ears, staring at the floor. The rise and fall of her chest is rapid, uneven. She wants nothing more than to hold her, slip away from the rest of the world and the things that dare hurt Maura.

"Doctor Isles," the man growls, making Maura's wide eyes look up with a flitter of panic. She lets her hands fall from her ears.

As she speaks, her voice breaks.

"You're Jacob Matthews. Melissa's father."

"You broke up my family, Doctor Isles. You're trying to put my daughter in prison, you've turned my son on his family. How'd you like it if I got a little payback?"

Jacob releases the safety on the gun, and Jane feels herself trembling. But Maura takes a few steps forwards, hand reaching out.

"NO! Don't you hurt her, don't you dare!" Maura cries fiercely.

"Well would you look at that, detective? It looks like I've found Maura Isles's weakness," Jacob murmurs into her ear.

Jane squirms, hands gripping his arm around her tightly. "What do you want, you sack of shit – "

"You don't want me to testify," Maura interrupts, moving closer, slowly, her hand drifting across the kitchen counter and curling around the handle of a drawer, white-knuckled. "You think that'll be enough to get Melissa off of charges."

"It will be."

Maura shakes her head. "No. It won't. Threatening me won't change Melissa's fate. She deserves to pay for what she's done."

"So do you."

She hears her Ma gasp and look away as Jacob's finger meets the trigger of his gun. Jane prepares herself automatically, tensing, staring at the woman she loves.

But then Maura is moving, so quickly she might have missed it if she had blinked. The drawer that she's close to opens in a flash and then she has a gun in her hands. Jane hears the sounds of the shots, jerks instantly, but feels no pain, only the way the arm gripping her goes limp as Jacob falls and blood spurts over the back of her shoulders.

She turns, wide eyed, reaching, to find him already on the floor, two bullets lodged into his skull.

There are shouts, and then Frankie and Korsak kick down the door, Phillips and Ito following them inside. Jane stares, mouth falling open, but they say nothing. Frankie and Korsak are by her ma's side immediately, Phillips rushing to take Jacob's pulse. Ito catches her eye and nods towards Maura.

Jane turns, finding Maura standing in the same spot, the gun gripped tight in her hands. She takes a few cautious steps forwards, until Maura lifts her eyes to hers, tears spilling over their edges as she trembles. She reaches out with one hand to pry the gun softly from her hands, but she flinches, fingers pale while she gasps at Jane's touch.

"Give me the gun, Maur," she murmurs. "You don't need it anymore. You're safe, he's gone."

"Safe," Maura repeats, staring at her in wonder.

She holds the gun out, letting Jane take it this time. Jane holds it aside, where Ito has moved to take it, and before she can say anything else Maura lets out a low, long cry, eyes closing and hands curling against her own chest.

"I'm okay," Jane whispers as she gathers Maura in her arms, feeling her shudder with sobs against her. "I'm fine, Maura. I'm okay."

"I can't lose you," Maura sobs against her shoulder. "Jane, I can't ever lose you."

"You won't. Ever. I promise," she rasps, kissing her hair. "You can't get rid of me that easily, Maura Isles."

The laugh that eases out of Maura's throat is choked and mixed with sobs. It is enough.

* * *

Jane sits on one of the dining chairs watching as the FBI loads Jacob's corpse onto a stretcher. Things feel a little calmer inside of her, now. She'd changed her shirt from the blood-splattered one and tied her hair up, not allowing it to knotting around her eyes and preventing her from keeping an eye on Maura. She's sitting on the couch with Phillips, who is taking her statement, slowly and carefully, to avoid triggering Maura into sobbing again. It had taken a long time to calm her to begin with.

"Careful, someone might think you're in love with her."

Jane startles a little as Ito laughs. She rolls her eyes and punches his side playfully as he takes his seat next to her.

"Shut up," she growls, fighting a grin.

"C'mon. The woman just killed a guy for you. If she doesn't love you too, I'll resign."

"Phillips would love that, she can finally hire someone useful."

"Good to see you haven't lost your wit."

Jane chuckles, looking back to Phillips and Maura. Something about Phillips is… different. She reaches out and squeezes Maura's forearm softly when she hesitates, jaw tightening as if she's fighting tears. It's only now that the agent becomes less of a foggy form in Jane's mind. All of this time she had been fighting against her as if she had needed to compete to be the one to save Maura. Now, though, she looks at this agent, with her blonde hair falling free around her shoulders for once and her green eyes kind and warm, so different to the one who had been bemused by her attempts to take over the investigation. Oh. Oh, this is why she had been uncomfortable around her.

She looks like Maura.

"Where'd she get the gun?" Jane asks, rubbing a thumb over her scars.

"We checked it out. She got a permit a couple weeks ago. It's all legal."

Jane sighs. "She didn't tell me about it."

"She's scared, Rizzoli. I imagine there's a lot of things she hasn't told you about."

Jane hums, glancing over at the puddle of blood staining the wood of Maura's front room. Forms fists with her hands. She will never let anyone harm one hair on her best friend's head again.

"You know, in Japanese, we have this proverb," Ito is saying. "After rain comes fair weather."

"Is that right."

Ito nods, and when she turns away from watching Phillips and Maura she finds his eyes on her. He's young, sure, but sometimes, when he looks at her, she sees knowledge and experience that surpasses his age. She's almost… missed him.

"Well," Jane says, rubbing her hands together. "It's winter. Crappy time to ask for some decent weather."

"You'll see one day. And when it happens, you better invite me to the wedding."

"Why, you wanna be my bridesmaid?"

Phillips stands from the couch, signalling to her team to finish up now that they've collected all the statements and Jacob's body. Ito sighs, rising from his seat and tugging on the end of his blazer sleeves.

"Don't be a stranger, Rizzoli."

Jane looks up at him and smiles.

"You can be maid of honour if that's what you _really_ want."

Ito rolls his eyes, making her laugh as he leaves.

* * *

Once the FBI are gone, three of their finest agents promising to watch over Maura's house, her Ma force feeds them dinner. Maura sits silently, staring at nothing but her plate, stabbing at the food every now and then but failing to eat. Angela gives Jane a pointed glance as she leaves them by the time the night has rolled around.

Jane watches as Maura paces by the kitchen counter, muttering under her breath while jabbing at her phone furiously.

"I can't _believe_ their phone lines aren't open at this hour – what if someone needed them in case of an emergency? Like now – "

"Maur, c'mon, slow down," Jane says, approaching her cautiously. "What do you need?"

"I _need_ CCTV surveillance and a better security system, obviously what I already have is subpar to my needs and considering there is a gang of – of criminals out there bent on hurting you – "

"They're not gonna get me. They're not gonna get you either, Maura, Jacob's dead," she murmurs, slowly slipping the phone from Maura's grip to place on the kitchen table. "Listen, you can call them first thing in the morning, okay? You'll be safe tonight. I promise."

"That's what you said before, Jane. And look at what just happened! I killed – "

Maura pauses, not breathing for a moment, until Jane takes her hands.

"I _killed_ him," she whispers, tears filling her eyes. "I've never – I didn't mean – he's…"

Jane pulls her close, letting Maura tuck her face into her neck, hands gripping her tightly.

"Stay," Maura chokes out. "Jane, I can't do this on my own anymore."

"You don't have to," Jane promises. "I'll be here as long as you need me."

"And if I need you forever?"

Jane smiles against her hair. How beautiful those words are to her ears.

"Then I'll be here."

* * *

The nightmares come to her quickly. Visions of Jacob pulling the trigger, ending her life before she can save her ma and Maura. Maura screaming out, crying as her blood spills across the floor, because Jane had promised, she had _promised_ that she would be safe and that she'd always keep her safe, and now look, she's too late, too late –

She wakes in a cold sweat, heart pounding in her ears. It barely takes ten seconds before she realises it is not her own nightmares that have woken her.

The screams echo through Maura's house. Jane rips the covers away and begins sprinting to Maura's room, taking the stairs two at a time. She bursts into her room, the only source of light spilling in from the hallway, illuminating Maura's empty bed. She rushes over to the sheets, confounded for a moment, gripping them tightly, before another scream echoes from the other side of the room. Groping her way through the dark, she finds Maura curled beneath her vanity, rocking back and forth as she stares at the wall and tears trickle down her cheeks.

Jane grips her shoulders. "Maura."

The screams stop, replaced by a small, barely there whisper.

"Jane is not coming for me."

"I'm right here, Maura."

"Jane is not coming for me."

Maura twists away from her grip, heaving a deep breath before yelling.

"Jane is not coming for me!"

Jane crawls back out from underneath her vanity, rushing over to the curtains. She flings the curtains open so that the moonlight mingles with the borrowed light of the hallway, crawling back over to Maura who she can see clearly now, down to every detail: her bloodshot eyes, the tear in her silk pyjama blouse from her own hands, her trembling lips.

"I'm here," she says softly, watching the way Maura's gaze settles on her suddenly. She takes her hands and squeezes. "I told you, I'm not going anywhere, Maura."

"You're really here," Maura whispers, reaching up to cup the detective's cheek. "Jane."

"It's me, Maur," she murmurs, leaning into the touch, almost allowing herself to close her eyes.

"I keep… Having these – these flashbacks, of sorts. Hallucinations. That I'm back there. Or I'm here and you're… you're just not, and I never know why."

Maura hand slips, travelling along her neck, curving around her shoulder, trailing down her arm until it's just her fingertips against Jane's. Jane fights to keep her skin from burning in the path of Maura's touch. This is not about that. This is about so much more.

But she needs her to know.

"I love you, Maura."

Reverent. Absolute.

Maura's teary eyes widen, glancing up at her.

"You do?"

Oh, how is that a question? The absence of Maura had been a terrifying thing, a hole so deep inside of her that she had felt her guts unspooling, all of the strings inside of her threatening to break. Loving her is a bubbling, filling thing; balm to her scars and a soft touch to the rough, sharp edges to her.

"Yes," she replies fiercely. It is one of the only real things she knows anymore. "You don't need to say anything. I just wanted you to know so that you know I'm not… I'm never leaving you, Maura. Not unless you ask."

Maura sighs, sloping forward, until Jane twists to curl an arm around her shoulders and hold her close.

"But what if I told you… that I can't go back to work? I can't go back to working on the dead, Jane. Not after all of this. I don't think I ever will."

"Then we'll find you something makes you happy," she promises, holding her tighter.

Eventually, Maura agrees to attempt sleep again. As she slips to sit on the edge of her bed, the covers thrown back, Jane moves over the windows to close the curtains. She drifts past Maura in the almost darkness, but she catches her wrist, shaking her head. So Jane closes the door, staying inside, before settling beside Maura, the way they used to when one of them was afraid, or tired, or just – just because.

She rests her head on the pillow, Maura doing the same, the covers at their socked feet. Maura reaches for her hand.

"I need to be small."

Jane takes a sharp breath.

"No. No, no – Maura. You are not small. You don't need to be. Please tell me you understand. How much space you take up inside of me. Maura," Jane curls her fingers beneath Maura's chin. "Please talk to me."

Maura looks up at her. Wide-eyed. Places her hands on Jane's cheeks.

"I need. To be small."

Her hands fall away as Jane finally begins to understand. Watches as Maura curls herself into a ball on the mattress and Jane pulls the sheets up and over their heads, until it's nothing but them and darkness, and wraps herself around Maura. She feels the small motions of her breathing against her and tightens her grip.

She will be enough for the both of them.

* * *

 **TBC**


	15. Chapter 15

**between your ribs**

* * *

 _I hope you enjoy this. You guys deserve it after all I've put you through in the past chapters..._

* * *

 **Chapter Fifteen:**

 _December 11th, 2015_

* * *

Jane finds herself studying herself in the mirror despite reminding herself that Maura has seen her at her lowest. The only person she has ever given permission to.

Still, she twists a little, surveying. Maura had told her that it doesn't matter how she dresses for this. It's just going to be them, after all. Casual. Still, she stares at her reflection and tugs at the hem of her red sweater. Stares at her unruly hair, flying out at all angles. She'll never be classy and put together like Maura. Never as beautiful. No-one can ever amount to Maura, though. So maybe it's okay that she's a little bit messy.

Not that she wants to impress her.

Sighing, Jane heads out of the guest room she's been staying in and heads to the front room. The decorations they had hung together last week make the place look homely again. Maura had laughed and laughed at Jane's attempts to get the angel to balance just right above the Christmas tree without falling off. They'd gotten all caught and tangled in the wires of the fairy lights as they tried to wrap them around the tree. She'd draped red tinsel around Maura's neck even as she squirmed as it tickled and hung baubles from her ears as mock earrings even as Maura rolled her eyes. Even now, she finds herself smiling at the memory. This is home. With Maura.

Slowly, this place is reverting back to being Maura's. The mess and clutter is beginning to disappear, its warmth beginning to spread and is becoming infectious. She's noticed – over the last two weeks that she has been living with her best friend – that Maura has been smiling more often, allowing herself to laugh. She is softer around the edges and, sometimes, looks at her in a way that makes her hold her breath.

"Good evening."

Maura is in the kitchen, hair falling in soft waves against her neck, green dress clinging to her torso and flaring a little at the skirt. It makes her look gentler than normal. Jane almost forgets how to speak.

"Hey," she manages.

She wanders over to the island as Maura turns to the oven to pull out the small turkey she's been cooking all day. Jane's eyes roam over the food Maura has prepared – the vegetables, the stuffing, the potatoes, all of it smells so delicious and makes her stomach rumble.

"How was work?" Maura asks as she sets the turkey on the side, sticking a thermometer in it.

"Okay," Jane says, rubbing her hands together and feeling her scars itch. Trying to figure out a way to say, _all I wanted to do was get home to this. To you._ "Slow."

"Paperwork?"

Jane huffs a laugh. "Pretty much."

She helps Maura set the table for the two of them. Carries the dishes and sets them in the order Maura would, watching for her smile out of the corner of her eye. It makes her heart pound. Christmas. With Maura. To make up with the one that they'd lost last year.

The cutlery is slippery in her sweaty hands as she finishes serving her food. Maura sits across from her, practically glowing in the warm amber light of the Christmas decorations. She wants so desperately to tell her how beautiful she thinks she is. Maybe, one day, she'll be able to.

"I handed in my resignation to Cavanaugh today," Maura admits after she takes a bite of her turkey. "I suppose the word will spread soon."

"Uh – actually, everyone pretty much already knows. Cavanaugh told us. Seemed pretty convinced your resignation was for real this time."

"It is."

Jane sets her cutlery down for a moment to gather herself. It's really happening. Working without Maura. She'd never convince her to come back – not if it's not what she wants, not what she can handle. She wants nothing more than to provide her with what makes her happy. But that thought is a little terrifying. She doesn't quite know how they work without that dynamic. What if without it she can't give Maura everything she wants, all of the things that make her happy?

"I'll miss you," Jane says, clearing her throat before she adds. "Working with you, I mean."

Maura smiles. "I'll miss it too. But I think this change will be good. For us."

 _Us._

Jane fights a smile, simply nods and says something about agreeing before she tucks into more of the food.

* * *

Later, once they have cleared away, they settle on the couch. Jane pulls her legs up beneath her as Maura smooths down her skirt, holding the present in her hands tightly.

"C'mon, Maur," she whines. "I'm sure I'll love whatever it is."

Maura flushes a little. "I'm not sure what I was thinking – "

But Jane grabs it from her hands before Maura can protest, shaking it a little out of curiosity even as she's berated for it. Not much sound emerges so she rips the finely tied ribbon and silver wrapping paper from the present eagerly. A small square box awaits her.

"I thought you might like a new one. I'm not sure it's exactly your style. But it just felt right," Maura says.

Jane lifts the lid of the box to find a watch inside. Black leather straps and a simple face, silver notches to it and the time already set correctly. She slips her old silver watch off, ready to put it on, but Maura stops her.

"I had the back of the face inscribed," she tells her.

Frowning, Jane flips the watch to the back. On the middle of the back of the watch is the inscription. _Like the sun._

"It's part a larger quote from Anna Karenina."

Jane looks up, thumb rubbing across the inscription.

"What does it mean?"

Maura looks away, blushing a little. "You should read it."

"Are you kidding me? I've seen that sitting on your shelf. It's _huge,_ " she protests, making Maura laugh. "But I – I love it. Thank you."

"You're welcome."

She slips the watch onto her wrist before heading over to the Christmas tree to grab the present she'd bought – well, technically, the present she had made – for Maura. She slumps back onto the couch as she passes it to Maura, feeling her face warm a little as she takes her time opening it. It's not the most Maura-y gift she's ever given her. It's just something that she thought she… well, something she thought she might have needed.

Maura frees the photo album of the wrapping paper, the white leather engraved with the words _My Family_. She watches as Maura brushes her fingers over the gold words, a smile tugging at her lips before she flips it open.

Inside, the photos begin with pictures of her, Constance and Arthur. She watches as Maura's throat constricts, flipping through the minimal pictures of them all. Jane had struggled to find any photos at all – any that weren't from formal events like art openings, the family hosting dinners with other social elite members. She's contacted Constance for some personal ones and Maura's mother had seemed a little saddened when she could barely provide her with any. Still, they'd filled at least the first three pages. Some of Maura as a child, carefully reserved, her age in the photos growing wider apart from the moment she'd left for boarding school. But then the photos of her and Jane begin. Slowly. As their friendship had blossomed until there are photos of Maura and her Ma; Maura and Tommy; Maura and Frankie. Group photos including Korsak and Frost and Susie at the precinct. Newer ones including Nina after the loss of Frost. Maura grows happier, smiles wider, as the photographs progress. Pictures from their last Christmas spent together and among all of these, interspersed, some of Hope and Caitlin. Maura is not close to them by any standards, but she still has them in her life.

"It's not full," Maura comments, staring at the half-empty album.

"You still have a life to live, Maura," Jane murmurs. "You'll have so much more to fill it with. Melissa didn't take that from you."

Maura presses the tips of her fingers against the last photo in the album. Jane had convinced her Ma to try and take it last week – she'd helped her gather some of the photos. Maura soft and smiling politely for Angela as Jane grins beside her. Their fresh start.

She doesn't realise that Maura is crying until she looks up at her. Just a few small tears that she wipes away with the back of her hand.

"Thank you, Jane," Maura whispers hoarsely.

She wants to say it. _I love you._ She wants to say it again and again until there's no more space between them to say anything else at all. Instead, she says, _you're welcome_. And finds that there is more than one way of saying what she means.

Maura's gaze drops to her lips for a moment and Jane feels her heart give out.

Maura leans forwards until she can press a gentle kiss to Jane's cheek. She doesn't pull away immediately, hovers close by, her forehead brushing Jane's. She can feel her breath on her cheek, her skin hot and burning all over from Maura's nearness.

"Merry Christmas, Jane."

Jane finds Maura's hand and squeezes.

"Merry Christmas, Maura."

Maura pulls away and Jane feels the breath she hadn't realised she'd been holding rush out of her all at once. But then Maura is wiping away the last traces of her tears, her hands trembling, and she finds it easier to breathe.

"You know what we need? Christmas music."

Maura frowns but Jane is already rushing to grab her laptop from her room. She returns skidding on her socked feet, placing the laptop down before pressing play. Rudolph The Red Nosed Reindeer begins immediately as she holds a hand out for Maura expectantly.

Maura splutters. "You can't be serious."

"As a heart attack. C'mon, Maura. It's fun."

Maura slips her heels off and accepts her hand warily.

She pulls her to her feet, slipping on her socked feet as she twists her hips and takes both of Maura's hands. Maura rolls her eyes a little but plays along, bopping a little awkwardly on the spot. But Jane keeps tugging on her hands until she begins twisting with her, and soon enough, a few songs later, they're dancing around the whole room, probably looking ridiculous but laughing and happy and the sight of Maura's smile, her laughter, uncontained and beautiful makes her grin so wide she almost thinks it'll split her face in two.

As one of the songs finishes, in the space between the next one beginning, Maura squeezes her hands.

"Thank you."

Jane frowns. "For what?"

"Giving me space when the anniversary passed the other week. For this day. For not giving up on me. For your patience… and for your love," Maura lists, blinking furiously against the few tears that begin to gather.

She squeezes Maura's hands in return. These things have all been hard. Especially watching Maura suffer as the year anniversary of the day she had been abducted passed eight days ago. But she had just wanted to carry on as if everything had been normal.

"You don't need to thank me for that," she murmurs. "I'm always gonna be right here with you."

Maura opens her mouth as if to argue, but then the next song begins, and Jane spins her so that the next sound she hears is her laughter.

* * *

Before she crawls into bed that night, she googles the part of the quote from the watch Maura had given her. Instead of looking for an explanation for the quote, she finds the full thing.

 _He stepped down, trying not to look long at her, as if she were the sun, yet he saw her, like the sun, even without looking._

Her heart pounds as she closes the lid of her laptop, slipping off the watch to stare at the inscription of _like the sun_ again. Is this a hidden message Maura wants to figure out, to acknowledge but not to act upon?

No. It doesn't matter. The motive is not what matters. The words do.

She falls asleep clinging to the watch, images of waking with Maura and kissing her without fear flickering behind her eyelids. Her hand grips the watch a little tighter.

One day.

* * *

 _December 18th, 2015._

* * *

Maura grips her hand so tight she thinks that it might break.

On Maura's other side, Constance is holding her breath as the jury files back out into the courtroom. Angela curses in Italian under her breath as Melissa Matthews dares look over at Maura. Behind her, Korsak reaches forward to squeeze her shoulder, murmurs something about how Maura's testimony had been brilliant. Maura doesn't acknowledge any of them, simply continues gripping Jane's hand.

And the jury announces they find Melissa guilty of all charges.

Her ma, Korsak and Frankie are on their feet immediately, cheering so loudly Jane is almost defeaned with the noise. Constance stands too, clapping with tears in her eyes, but Jane stays sitting with Maura, hands linked.

Maura turns to her, so close, her chin brushing Jane's shoulder as she speaks.

"Is it over?" She asks through the celebrations.

Jane smiles, knocking her forehead against Maura's lightly.

"It's over. You won."

Maura gives a small sob of relief, practically falling into Jane. She catches her and holds her so easily. As if this is what she had been born to do.

"Everything's going to be okay," she whispers.

Maura shifts until she can press a kiss against her cheekbone through her tears.

"It always is when I'm with you."

* * *

 **TBC**


	16. Chapter 16

**between your ribs**

* * *

 _So, so excited for your responses to this chapter_

* * *

 **Chapter Sixteen:**

 _January 20th, 2016._

* * *

Cursing under her breath, Jane swings her car into the parking garage of the building. The asshole honking at her – admittedly, erratic driving – passes her yelling as he does. She mutters a quick thanks to God when she finds the garage mostly empty and parks on the other side of the level to Maura. Accidentally, of course.

The receptionist greets her with a warm smile when she reaches the right level. It makes her skin crawl. She wants to find something condescending beneath the warm smile, something to justify the irritation that settles on the back of her neck and makes the hair there rise. There's nothing. Instead the warmth curves up to spread in the receptionist's eyes too as she points her in the direction of the correct office. She can feel those same eyes on her as she walks away and makes sure to hold her chin up high. If only she'd brought her badge to flash.

Maura isn't sitting in the small gathering of chairs outside of the office, which throws her for a moment. She looks around, rubbing at her scars absentmindedly, before taking a seat. This part of the building is almost peaceful, which she finds a little ironic. The walls are tall and painted a warm cream, not the fading kind that normally reminds her of fading paint on hospital walls. There are photographs of landscapes of the different seasons lined up in two by two rows, creating a cyclical effect. Even the waiting chairs shock her, a deep chocolate brown leather that she can sink into comfortably. She doesn't. She sits on the edge, occasionally running a hand across her tangled curls – she'd worn them up in a ponytail earlier and now they're a messy nightmare – with one knee bouncing erratically.

"Jane?"

She startles and automatically stands, finding herself face to face with Maura.

She swallows hard. Maura is beaming at her like she's just presented her with the ability to eternally prevent necrotizing fasciitis.

"You came," she murmurs, quietly, like two kids sharing secrets in the dark.

"I promised I would, didn't I?"

Maura tilts her head a little, considering this. "You did."

They settle in the chairs, Maura on the left of Jane, closest to the door. She looks perfectly at ease, something that make's Jane's heart tug uncomfortably. Maura's therapy isn't something they have spoken about in detail. It's been mentioned in passing, when she's leaving for appointments or attempting an assignment she had been set. How many times a week must she come here to try and sew the remaining pieces of herself back together?

Jane rubs her hands together as the palms sweat a little, staring down at the one imperfection she has managed to find in this place so far: a small smudge of mud imprinted on the carpet. She lifts one of her boots a little to find she's the one who walked it in here.

"How was work?"

"Good. Yeah, great, actually," Jane answers, finally allowing herself to lean back in the chair. "We closed the case today – you know, the one that's been active for about a week?"

"The asphyxiation case?"

Jane rolls her eyes, unable to prevent her laugh. "Yeah. That one."

Maura nods, lacing her hands together neatly in her lap, poised against one of her crossed knees. Her nails are freshly painted, a pale pink the same shade as her sleeveless blouse, soft in comparison to the light grey pencil skirt she's wearing. Jane's eyes are drawn up irresistibly, over the curves of Maura's exposed shoulders and the freckles that appear there, to her jawline, steady and sloping and interrupting the otherwise oval shape of her face, short and straight honey hair almost dusting her shoulders now. Eyes sharp and alert as they study the photographs on the wall opposite them.

She could spend hours watching her.

"How's it going? Setting up the charity?"

Maura ducks her head after a small smile. Maura had first approached her asking what she thought of the idea two weeks ago. A charity dedicated to building women's shelters for those who had been abused; aiding in rehabilitation; creating safe spaces; treating the mental health repercussions. At first she had been so floored and absolutely in awe of Maura Isles that she had been speechless, unable to say a damn thing. For that moment Maura had turned away, claiming it was probably a silly idea. Then she had turned back to see Jane crying.

"Good. Angela has been very helpful. I think we might be able to start fundraisers soon."

"That's good, Maura," she says, torn between reaching out to squeeze her hand and keeping her steady distance. She and Maura had reached their own equinox or sorts recently; Maura with her knowledge of Jane's love and Maura's own hidden on the back of a watch's face. It's been hard figuring out where the boundaries are. "I hope that – "

But beside them, the door has opened. Out steps Maura's therapist, Doctor Reyes, a surprisingly gangly woman with red hair falling in thick curls over her shoulders. Her light blue eyes land on Maura, prompting a smile.

"Maura, come on in."

Maura stands, clearing her throat before she gestures to Jane. Jane jumps to her feet a little too quickly, steadying herself by pressing a hand against Maura's back. She pretends not to hear her sharp intake of breath, but it spreads warmth in the pit of her stomach, low and pleasant. Her body has been thrumming with the thought of _someday_ for weeks now. She's ready to burst.

"Actually, Doctor Reyes, I was wondering if my friend Jane could sit in on this session. I'm not quite sure how to… open up outside of them."

Reyes steps forward to shake Jane's hand, raising one eyebrow. "So you're Jane Rizzoli. It's nice to finally put a name to a face."

"You know me?"

Reyes laughs as Maura looks between the pair of them.

"Of course I do. And I must say, Maura's right."

"Yeah? About what?"

"You do have a handsome sort of beauty about you."

Promptly, Reyes turns on her heel and heads back into her office. Maura scuttles behind her, face beetroot red as Jane attempts to hug her smug grin. Maura thinks she's beautiful. In a… handsome sort of way. Well. She'll take it.

The interior of Reyes' office is far less fancy than the rest of the place. It has a homely quality about it, especially due to the pictures of what she can only assume is the Doctor's family sitting on the desk. An array of seat options await them – comfortable leather like the ones outside or desk chairs, the kind with wheels, with high backs; there's even a pile of bean bags in the corner. Maura takes one of the comfortable leather ones instantly, sitting opposite Doctor Reyes in the middle of the room rather than by the desk. Jane copies her and sits to her right. Reyes catches her glancing over at the bean bags.

"You'd be surprised at how many people prefer those. A little freer, I'd suppose."

Jane shrugs, looking around the lime green coloured room. A little like the colouring scheme Maura once had. She looks over at her, finding that she is still refusing to meet her eyes.

"So, Maura," Reyes says, shaking her curls away from her face. "Is there anything in particular that you wish to discuss today? Should we follow on from last week's session?"

Maura nods, remaining mute. Jane frowns.

"Before we start, Jane, do you need me to explain how these sessions normally work?"

Jane shakes her head, looking down at her hands.

"No, I've uh – I've had therapy before."

"You have?"

It's not Doctor Reyes that speaks. Jane looks to her left to find Maura staring at her curiously, her eyebrows tugging together a little. As if trying to find the last piece of the puzzle.

"I didn't know that."

"Not formally. Just. After Hoyt, for a little while, here and there. No big deal."

"Have you considered going back because of Maura's kidnapping?"

Doctor Reyes this time. Jane looks away from Maura.

"No."

She wants to leave it there, but Reyes leans forwards a little. Apparently she's captured her attention.

"Why not?"

Jane clears her throat. "The kidnapping didn't happen to me. It happened to Maura. So, you know, I've uh – gotta be strong for her."

She peeks at Maura out of the corner of her eye. The afternoon sun is pouring in through the windows beside her, kissing her skin and giving her an almost golden glow, her eyes hazy and soft. The way she's looking at her makes her heart pound. Eyes slowly travelling over every inch of the skin of her face, as if she's seeing something that she'd never noticed before.

"Therapy is not for the weak, Jane. Do you consider Maura weak?"

"No," her answer is immediate, quick, her head snapping round to glower at Reyes. "Never."

Reyes smiles. "Relax, Jane. I'm not accusing you of anything."

Jane leans back in her chair, rubbing a hand against her temples. This is going to be a long hour.

Reyes suggests they move on to a topic Maura had broached last week. Her incapacity to express her feelings. She pretends to stare at her boots when Reyes begins to unpick Maura's thoughts.

"What kind of feelings is it you feel you're unable to express, Maura? From our sessions together, I have seen you learn to open up due to the benefits of therapy. I feel that you've been making excellent progress. Perhaps you doubt yourself too much, focusing on the big steps instead of the hundreds of small ones you have made?"

Maura takes a shaky breath.

"Well, I – I suppose I am able to express my fears. My anxieties," she agrees. "But it's about Jane."

She swivels towards Maura, eyes wide. "Me?"

Maura blinks wetly. "Yes. You."

"Do you feel that this is a result of your PTSD, Maura, or have you felt this way throughout your friendship?"

"My PTSD."

Jane groans, shoving her face into her hands as she feels the tears spring to her eyes. She's _not_ going to cry. She just needs to hide for a moment, so that neither of these women feel pity for her. Already she can feel her face flushing, reddening, with this deep and ingrained embarrassment. She's not allowed to be weak. Not anymore.

After a moment passes, she feels a gentle touch against one of her hands. Fingertips drifting against the back, over her left scar. Until those fingers creep beneath the space between them, pads soft against her palms, tugging her hands away from her face. Maura has pulled her chair a little closer, eyes soft like before when she brings her out of the darkness and back into this moment. What has she ever done to deserve someone like Maura Isles in her life?

"Jane?"

"It's my fault."

"What is?"

"All of this. All of it. Because I didn't save you. Someone else did, someone better than me."

She shakes her head. "You know I don't blame you for – "

"It's _my fault._ "

Maura's hands tighten a little around her own at the low tone in her voice, flinching away a little, the perfect contradiction. It reminds her too much of the Maura that had been found. The one who could only exist in the dark because she hadn't seen sunlight in two hundred and ninety two days and screamed with terror anytime she woke up with Jane by her side; the woman who apologised and cried if anyone asked her what she wanted and feared more than anything the woman that loved her.

She slips her hands from Maura's, pretending not to notice the way her face falls. Turns back to Reyes.

"Can I - ?"

"You're more than welcome, Jane."

She nods before she turns back to Maura.

"When you first disappeared, we were all so certain that we were going to find you. _I_ was certain. I was going to swoop in like the hero and whisk you away from danger. Because I couldn't be without you. So I'd find you. I just _would."_

"Jane – "

"Maura, please."

Maura blinks again, tears gathering in her eyes. Jane looks away from those eyes, down to the hands that reach for her now rather than flinch away.

"The day I realised you'd been missing for a week almost killed me. Because I hadn't found you yet. Cavanaugh could only give enough free reign to investigate your case for so long. I had to find you. I kept looking, and looking, but I had to do my job eventually. And every day, I'd wake up, wondering where you were, how you were, how close I was to finding you. Anytime I wasn't looking for you, it was like it was my fault you were gone. That you were in trouble. Because you were _my_ responsibility."

She reaches out to take Maura's hands."

"The possibility that you were dead didn't occur to me until you'd been gone for five months. I had no leads – there hadn't been many to begin with. Your house was still a crime scene, even then. It was nothing like the home you'd owned. I called in sick that day and sat at home with a six pack of beer and didn't touch one damn bit of food. Because if I did, I only threw it back up. I was a mess, Maura. Not in the way you were forced to be. My experience would never compare to yours, and this isn't a competition… but I was a mess. And I blame myself for every moment of it."

Maura swallows her in her arms immediately. Hands cupping her shoulder blades as Jane buries her face in the slope of her shoulder, the soft smooth skin that is somehow still unmarred. Like this, she can feel the hitch of Maura's uneven breaths as she struggles to fight against crying. She can imagine her own is just the same. Instead of focusing on it, she closes her eyes, focusing on the fact that Maura is here _now._ She's no longer without her. Those moments when she wakes up and thinks for just one second that Maura hasn't been found are just lingering nightmares.

Eventually, Maura pulls away, her eyes still filled with unshed tears.

"Maura?"

Jane startles slightly at Doctor Reyes' voice. She'd almost forgotten that the woman was still in the room. The therapist stands, smiling at them as she speaks.

"Would you like me to give you two a moment?"

"Yes, please," Maura murmurs. Jane doesn't know how she finds the ability to speak.

The door closes behind Reyes with a soft _snick._ The room suddenly feels awkward, tension too real and everything too honest. She wants to take the words from the air and shove them back down her throat, she wants to reverse her voicing of the bad things. She loves Maura, yes. Maura knows this. But she does not need to know her dark corners, the edges that make her unlovable in return; the parts of her that will make her want to leave.

Maura does not leave. Instead, she takes her hands.

"If we're confessing, then I suppose it's my turn to share."

"You don't – "

Maura quirks an eyebrow. "If you say I don't have to then you misunderstand the purpose of therapy."

Jane almost allows herself to laugh.

"Can I tell you why it's still so hard for me to trust you, even when every part of me knows I should? That I did before?"

She rolls her shoulders in preparation. Every time they talk about this, it knocks the damn wind out of her.

"Shoot."

Maura smiles.

"Every time I look at you, there's this moment, perhaps only two seconds, but enough to ruin me… I look at you and I see Melissa."

She looks down at her boots. Yeah. She knows. She's known this whole damn time, heard it from doctor's and Maura's screaming mouth and Maura's late night hazy nightmares. She's damn tired of living with that knowledge.

Maura releases one of her hands to put a finger beneath Jane's chin, pushes up so that she's forced to look at her.

"It's not as bad as it used to be. For a long time, you two weren't separate at all. Now I know that you are. But for two seconds, I'm back there, with a woman who hurt me if I did not do as she asked. I'm not with the woman who drops everything for me – runs down the hallway at four in the morning to lay with me when she hears me screaming; gives me space when I ask for it despite her instinct to push; loves me in spite of everything. I _hate_ that I could ever confuse you for her."

"It's not your fault," she interrupts. "If I'd found you – "

"Do you know how much I loved you?"

Everything inside of her stills, even her heart, time passing like slow motion as all breath escapes her. Maura is staring at her reverently, a small smile playing on her lips.

"I remember it well. It was a real and palpable thing. It almost consumed me. I think I still loved you when I was held hostage. That's why I blended the two of you in the first place: my constant love and my constant hurt."

She slips her hands from Maura's to cup her cheeks, tears spilling free now. She notices Maura's hands trembling as they grip her wrists.

"I just got confused," Maura whispers hoarsely. "I'm trying to come back to myself, because every time you're near me, I remember all of the reasons why she – me – loved you. I'm falling in love with you all over again. I'm just stuck… can you wait for me?"

Everything begins again. Her heart pounding and own hands trembling as she reaches forward to drag Maura into a fierce hug. Their knees knock and Maura laughs against her cheek, kissing the space between her jaw and her neck.

"Jane?"

"Oh," she suddenly realised she hasn't answered. But how has this ever been a question? She would wait a lifetime for Maura Isles.

"Yes," she whispers, gripping her tighter. "I love you. Yes."

* * *

 **TBC**


	17. Chapter 17

**between your ribs**

* * *

 _A thousand apologies for the delay. It's coursework and exam time at uni, and I haven't wanted to force myself to write because this chapter is incredibly important. I hope I did it justice. Enjoy._

* * *

 **Chapter Seventeen:**

 _February 1st, 2016._

* * *

She can hear Maura fussing down the hallway, muttering to herself as she undoubtedly holds up different outfits for the event tonight. Jane struggles into the plain black dress she'd bought for the occasion, spitting out the curls that get trapped in her mouth as the fabric slides over her face. Pushing her hair to one side, she studies herself. She is unwilling to admit that she feels as though her knees might begin to knock together from how much she's shaking. So she turns away and grabs the heels she will only grudgingly wear, applying a little mascara before she heads down the hall to Maura, heels hanging from her fingers.

Maura stands in a familiar silk robe that only reaches her mid-thigh, tied loosely at her waist. It gapes slightly around her chest and reveals a little more cleavage than normal, making Jane practically stumble. That catches Maura's attention and she feels her face growing beetroot red as she catches herself on the wood of the doorway. Trying to play it cool. Maura doesn't comment, but when she turns away, Jane swears she sees a smirk playing on her lips.

Jane drops the heels to the floor with a low _thud,_ following Maura into the room as she stands with her hands on her waist, glaring at three dresses she's laid out on the bed. She stops by her side.

"You're the reason stereotypes like this exist, you know."

Maura rolls her eyes. "It's important that I look professional but good at the same time."

Jane arches an eyebrow. "Who decided you needed to look good, the board or you?"

This time, it's Maura's turn to blush.

"Well, we can't both wear black," Maura decides, grabbing the black dress from her bed to hang it up in her closet again. Jane stares at the remaining two dresses.

As Maura stops beside her again, Jane leans over and grabs one of the dresses. A long-sleeved one that will cover the scar on Maura's right forearm. It's a cobalt blue colour that, apart from the asymmetric neckline, is otherwise relatively plain. Perfect.

"You look good in blue," she mumbles, feeling her face grow hot again as she practically shoves the dress at her.

Maura's mouth twitches a little at the comment. She holds the dress hesitantly before looking up at Jane. She understands immediately, turning her back and facing away. She hears the sound of the silk robe falling to the floor in a whisper before there's the slide of fabric against Maura's skin. She closes her eyes and counts back from ten, willing the blush to stay away from her skin. Before she'd been taken, she'd seen Maura in her underwear countless times, and apart from when she was drunk or too tired to think straight it hadn't been something she had focused on. But now… now everything is different. They're different. And Maura is in her underwear. Barely even a foot away from her.

"It's not right," comes Maura's soft voice behind her.

She turns, words caught in her throat as she catches sight of her. The dress finishes just above her knees, hiding the scar on her thigh. Her eyes travel up, tracking the way it clings to the flare of her hips and dip of her small waist, up and over her chest and – there's a scar she hasn't seen before. Maura's hands cover it when Jane's eyes land there. She steps forward and pushes them away gently before her fingers press against it. It looks like similar to the ones Hoyt had given her. Barely more than an inch long, sitting just above the swell of her breast. It's a little faded, not enough to be completely unnoticeable, still a light pink colour.

"I tried to get out, once. I had a glass with water, smashed it, and waited with a piece to try and get her. But I had been too weakened by that point, too malnourished to concentrate properly. She'd just grabbed it from me and fought back when Kyle walked in," Maura explains, and then her hands join Jane's on top of the scar. "He stopped her. I know he's done wrong, but during that time he did some things right."

Jane breathes in, deeply, slowly, and finds that it calms her. As does the touch of Maura's hands against her own, the way her eyes implore her for some sort of reassurance.

"Yes, he did," she finds herself agreeing.

Maura smiles a little. Their hands fall away and she tugs at the dress self-consciously, before her hands raise to her shoulders.

"Does it – I mean, can you - ? "

She turns a little and Jane sighs, pressing her fingers against the familiar burn scar that encompasses Maura's left shoulder blade. The asymmetric neckline reveals, like the scar on her chest, this one too. Maura shudders a little when she realises.

"Hey, hey – you're gonna ruin your make up or something," she murmurs, sidling around to see tears gathering in Maura's eyes. "You worked so hard on that, didn't you? I could hear you grunting like you always do when you do eyeliner from all the way downstairs."

That, thankfully, makes Maura laugh. The tears do not fall, but, still, Maura's fingers press against one of her scars. Jane purses her lips.

"You could probably change your dress, or spend time covering them with make up," she says airly, studying Maura's reaction. When she looks as though she's actually considering it Jane softens her tone. "Or you could go out there and show them how strong you are."

Maura huffs. "Jane – "

"No, I'm serious. That's what all of this is for, right? If the whole point is to help victims of abuse, why hide the marks that show you survived it yourself?"

Maura struggles to find a logical answer, her eyes closing and brows furrowing in frustration. Jane reaches out and brushes her fingers against the faint scar on Maura's forearm.

"I don't know that I…" Maura pauses. "I don't know if I'm ready to show anyone but you what's happened to me."

Somewhere, deep down, she feels a part of her doing backflips at the recognition of how much Maura cares for her. The rest keeps a tight lid on the emotion and stops her from really doing cartwheels.

"There's only one way to find out."

Maura turns away, studying herself in the mirror again. The scar across her shoulder cannot be hidden, but the one on her chest is barely noticeable. Regardless, she understands the desire to hide the proof that you have hurt.

Without saying a thing, Maura turns away from her reflection, slipping her feet into a pair of black heels she pulls from her closet. There is something small about her, still, something vulnerable. As she grabs a strip of Prozac and shoves it into her bag, hands shaking, Jane reaches out to take one, squeezing gently. Reassurance.

Maura lets her hold her hand during the entire car ride.

The room is busier than she expects it to be as they step into the reception. Maura drops her hand and moves away as she spots one of the investors she gets along with well and Jane watches her go, curious. Maura keeps her shoulders straight, holding her chin up, any emotion she had shown earlier hidden by the hard glare she gives those whose eyes flicker to her scars. As if daring them to say anything. They don't, and turn away with the decency to look ashamed, and then Maura is engaged in conversation just like any other person in this room, perfectly normal.

She catches Jane's eyes over someone's shoulder and smiles.

Now that she is convinced Maura can manage on her own, she begins to search through the crowd for someone that she knows, tugging a little uncomfortably at her dress. She spots Constance speaking with Arthur at the bar – she is yet to be introduced to Maura's dad – and scopes the rest of the room for some members of her family. Eventually she catches Frankie as he passes by and follows him to the table her Ma is sitting at, sipping at a glass of champagne.

"Ew, really? That's all they have?" Jane complains, kissing Angela's cheek in greeting. "Hey, Ma."

"It's champagne!" Angela protests as Jane slides the glass away from her place as though it has offended her.

"Exactly."

Frankie snorts before Angela nags him into finding Tommy and TJ. Jane watches him go, poking her tongue out when he looks back at her for help.

Ten minutes later, Frankie drags Tommy and TJ over to the table. Her nephew escapes his father's grip and climbs up in her lap, looking around for Maura. She smiles and presses a kiss to the back of his head.

"Same, kid," she murmurs.

The chatter dies down eventually and Constance and Arthur join them at their table, shaking hands. Arthur surprises her. He is the opposite of everything she had been expecting. So tall and grand compared to the small fierceness of Maura. She wonders how much space they had spent apart to refrain from him swallowing up all the room. Maybe this is why Maura had always learned to be quiet, she could never compete with the low boom in his voice. But his hand is sweaty when he shakes hers, glancing at Maura out of the corner of his eye as she takes her seat at the table. Dinner is served and Maura does not look at him once. She makes a mental note to ask about this strange dynamic someday.

Jane slips one of her feet out of her heels and knocks it against Maura's leg.

Maura hides her smile by taking another bite of food, knocking back.

Once the desserts have been finished and everyone except Maura has an empty plate, merrily buzzed and a little flushed in the face from alcohol, the lights dim slightly and focus on the stage. An older woman with a worn and weathered kind of expression takes to the podium, barely taller than it. Jane frowns but Maura simply grins.

"That's Nellie," Maura whispers when the woman begins to welcome the guests, leaning over so that her lips almost graze Jane's ears. "Her daughter was murdered after she escaped an abusive relationship. She approached me only a week ago to help the charity. She's been a big help."

"In one week? Just like that?"

Maura turns away from staring up at Nellie to watch Jane.

"Yes. Just like that," she murmurs softly.

Jane's throat clogs, too many responses tripping over each other, eager to make their way out. By the time she manages to open her mouth Maura is being called up to the stage, Constance leaning over to kiss her daughter's cheek. She watches her go, still speechless.

As Maura climbs the steps, the harsh lighting only serves to highlight the burn scar on her shoulder blade. Jane hears Constance and her own Ma make soft sounds of surprise behind her but she doesn't dare look away. Once she steps up to the podium, the lighting is much softer – she hesitates slightly under it, eyes scanning the crowd until she finds Jane's. She sends her a thumbs up and an encouraging smile and Maura finally finds the ability to take a deep breath and begin to speak.

"Thank you, all of you, for coming and donating and helping us in whatever way you have," Maura begins. "I already know that this charity is going help a lot of women, no matter what path it is they take to join us. I only hope that one day they will feel as safe and secure as I do now, despite everything that has happened to me."

Maura pauses, allowing people time to clap. Jane rolls her eyes teasingly.

"I'd just like to take a moment to thank the people who have made this possible. I don't just mean financially, but those who have supported me without fail, no matter what choices I have made. My family – my mother, my," she hesitates. "My father. Angela Rizzoli, who means more to me than she knows, as well as Frankie and Tommy, who are like brothers to me."

Angela grabs her serviette from the table and dabs at her watery eyes with it, TJ crawling from Jane's lap over to her. Constance reaches over to squeeze Angela's hand. She watches them for only a moment before turning back to Maura, finding her already watching her.

"And Jane," she says softly. She hesitates, as though she has more to say, but Jane just shakes her head.

She doesn't need speeches over expensive dinner and fancy champagne.

She does, however, need to hold Maura's hand beneath the table when she returns, out of sight of everyone else, like they're alone, like they're in love.

Maura is already reaching out for her hand when she takes her seat.

* * *

 _February 6th, 2016._

* * *

Jane yawns, finally finishing the last of the dishes and wiping the soap suds on her sweatpants. She turns to watch Maura, who is nose-deep in paperwork. She has been ever since her charity officially launched – they already have two women's shelters being built in different parts of Boston thanks to fundraising. Most of it is just legal spiel that she doesn't pay attention to, but the way Maura's eyes light up whenever she talks about the progress they've made in such a short time is enough to make her stomach flip. Even now, the privilege of watching Maura like this, soft and unguarded, swathes her in an emotion she's unable to describe.

They still haven't spoke of when Jane will leave, now that the trial is over and Maura is safe. Instead, Jane has moved the majority of her things into the closet in the guest room as well as Jo Friday's bed. Maura bought a dog bowl for her the other day. She gets the feeling Maura worries that she might leave. Well, she won't, not unless she's asked.

"I'm gonna go to bed," she tells Maura, who jumps at the sound of her voice. She laughs. "Sorry, I didn't realise you were so into that."

"No, no – I should probably call it a night too," Maura laughs softly, gathering the paperwork and slipping it into a file before rising from her seat.

Jo Friday dances around her ankles as she takes the stairs, Maura right behind her. The dog shoots off into her room – no doubt jumping up onto her bed no matter how many times she's told her not to – leaving them alone as they pad bare footed down the hallway. She brushes her hand against Maura's.

"Reyes is thinking about taking me off of my medication," Maura says into the silence. They stop outside of Jane's door. "Usually they don't take anyone off it so soon, the affects of PTSD are so varied, but… she thinks I'm ready. "

"Are you?"

Maura looks up at her, tilting her head slightly. "Yes. I think so."

She has grown used to the sight of Maura taking a vitamin every morning along with the little white and green Prozac pill, as well as one before lunch. It is just one of the faint reminders that things are different. But, now, knowing that Maura has overcome so many obstacles that she herself could probably never face –

Things are not different at all. Maura has always been this strong.

"That's _good,_ Maura," she tells her, reaching out to squeeze her hand. "You know that, right?"

In the half-light, she watches Maura smile.

"Yes. I do."

Jane moves to follow Jo Friday, but Maura stays rooted to the spot. She raises her eyebrows and turns back curiously.

"Maura?"

Maura pushes up on her toes, slowly, uncertain. Jane's frown deepens when her hands cup Jane's cheek. And then everything begins.

She closes her eyes at the feel of Maura's lips against hers. The kiss is slow, soft, reminds her of warm summer nights as a kid when she'd watch the stars and feel some deep rooted sense of content that she hadn't a name for. Before she really has the chance to cherish the kiss, Maura's lips and her hands are gone, and she drops back down onto flat feet, eyes twinkling.

"Goodnight, Jane," she murmurs.

Maura pads away softly, her figure blurring away into the shadows of the hallway. She waits for a beat, considering letting her go.

For the first time since Maura has been found.

She pushes.

Jane grabs her wrist, twisting her back around. Maura collides with her chest to chest, eyes wide, mouth opening to say something but hasn't a fraction more of a moment to process anything before Jane kisses her.

She does not give her slow and soft, but grips her tightly around the waist, taking and taking and taking. Warmth twists in her stomach, animated and erratic, when Maura whines low in the back of her throat. Maura's hands finally settle on Jane's arms, gripping tightly when their tongues meet, pushing on her toes to give as good as she can in return. And Jane momentarily realises the importance of living for the now. She wants to live in this now time and time again, feel Maura's soft waist in her grip, hands moving away and up, cupping her jaw and tilting her head up, wanting to live here too, on this soft skin that she wants to leave marks against, the first marks of happiness in years, and here, now, her hands in Maura's hair fisting tightly and Maura whimpering against her. She feels time unravelling around them like a bandage, their wounds finally healed.

Jane pulls away suddenly, assessing. Maura stares up at her, slack jawed and dazed.

"Goodnight, Maura," she murmurs, smirking before slips from her grasp and down the hall.

She glances over her shoulder to see Maura still standing there, skin flushed, eyes closed, fingers pressing against her swollen lips.

* * *

 **TBC**


	18. Chapter 18

**between your ribs**

* * *

 _I'm so, SO sorry for the wait. Uni exams + Castle drama was so distracting. But, I promise, the next update will come quicker. After all, the next chapter will be the epilogue..._

* * *

 **Chapter Eighteen:**

 _February 11th, 2016_

* * *

They don't speak about it.

It doesn't happen again and five days after Jane feels her skin crawling with need. Her leg bounces as she fills in paperwork – _boring –_ and tries not to think about Maura. Soft lips, small hands, her hair – tickling her skin, eyelashes fluttering, so close she can feel them. Skin flushed, eyes closed, swollen lips. That feeling of possibility.

Possibility still lurks there, blossoming at the bottom of her heart, swelling every now and then when she's caught Maura looking at her when she thought she wasn't looking. But still, nothing has happened, nothing has come of it; not one word. She's not quite sure what she had expected, really. It's not that like they were going to elope any time soon (now _that_ was an idea). Maura has made it perfectly clear that she needs time –

But how much is left?

Jane pauses, fingers running over the watch Maura had given her, thinking about the inscription on the back of its face. _Like the sun._

Maura had let her kiss her. Had let it happen, kissed her back – and before that, she'd given her a watch with this secret meaning. Is this her way of showing her she's ready? Is she waiting for her to act on it? But what if she does, and Maura is wrong, that she isn't ready?

She glances at her hands, at her scars.

They all need their time to grow.

Sometimes they need to grow together.

* * *

The woman in the flower shop is kind, patient, as she shows her various bouquets. None of them feel right – roses are too cliché, everything else just so understated. It isn't until the woman serving her mentions that bluebells signify everlasting love that she finds herself paying for a bouquet and walking out of the store. Makes sure not to let anything crush the flowers, keeps glancing at them out of the corner of her eyes when she drives home – to Maura's – oh, Hell, it is home. It has been for a long time.

She stops outside of the door, flowers in hand, heart in her throat. This feels urgent. This feels… messy, unplanned. But isn't that who she is, isn't that how Maura loves her anyway?

There's only one way to find out.

Maura is trying to teach Jo Friday to roll over when she finds her, sat behind the couch, laughing when the dog jumps up to lick her chin instead, that delightful sound ringing through the apartment. She takes a moment to stop and watch her, this wonderful woman who has somehow wormed her way into her life without her realising. Like all this time, they've been sneaking up on each other.

"Jane," Maura's cheeks redden as she realises she's being watched. She passes the treat she had been holding to Jo Friday and stands, staring at the bouquet in Jane's hands. "Who gave you those?"

"No-one. I, uh. I bought them for you, actually," she murmurs, shoving them a little too quickly at Maura.

She takes them with a soft smile, her eyes twinkling, regardless of the way Jane is acting. Brings them up to her nose to smell them, fingers brushing over the dainty petals. Oh, God. Jane is almost certain that she's going to pass out just watching her and how beautiful she is. It's a little unfair.

"Thank you, Jane," Maura lifts onto her toes, kissing the corner of Jane's lips, and she feels everything inside of her still suddenly.

But Maura moves past her, hunting for a vase to place the flowers in. Jane feels too self-aware, skin too flushed and hot just from that one moment of nearness with Maura. Finds herself stripping off her work blazer and draping it over the back of the couch – even though she's been told too many times not to do that – and unbuttons an extra button. Or – oh. Will that look like she's giving _that_ kind of signal?

Maura is back in front of her before she can redo it, unaware of the mental breakdown Jane is sure she's having. This woman is going to be her undoing. Everything inside of her still screams to run towards her anyway.

"How was work?"

They bubble over, the words, out of her heart. So many things she wants to say to Maura in response to the inane question. But they get stuck, worming their way up her throat and trying to pull her lips apart to get free. She tries to swallow them down, her hands shaking. She can _do_ this. For god's sake, she left Maura aching and wanting just a few days ago, right? If only she could reclaim that confidence, that power. Instead of being this version of herself, the one who can't move, can't speak, can barely breathe with Maura next to her.

"Jane?"

And still, nothing. She stares down into the concerned green eyes that are watching her, wanting to say it. _I love you. I love you. Please love me too._

Maura reaches out to take her hand, and it is this one touch that spurs her movements.

"I love you," she blurts out, ungracefully, watching Maura's eyes widen only a fraction before the words make her smile. "God, Maur, you drive me crazy."

"I do?"

"Every damn day. I can't – I can't stop thinking about you, Maura, it's like I don't – I don't know how to be _me_ without you anymore, you know? Can you understand that?"

Maura reaches up to tangle her hands in Jane's curls, cheeks pleasantly rosy.

"Yes. Yes, I think I do," she murmurs. "What brought this on?"

"Nothing. Everything. I don't know. I just – Maura, I don't want to _wait_ anymore, like the sky is gonna drop down and give us some sign that either of us are ready for this, because there never is a _right time_. I think – I think you're ready, too, or you don't want to wait alone anymore either. I think that's why you let me kiss you. I think that's why you enjoyed it."

Maura's hand falls away from her, chest rising and falling rapidly. Jane approaches her slowly, backing her against the couch, until Maura's thighs are biting the back of it. She takes one step closer, until their bodies are almost brushing. In the corner of her eye, she watches the way Maura's hands fist against the back of the couch, gripping the blanket there tightly.

"I think that's why, if I kissed you right now, you'd let me," she murmurs, drifting closer.

Maura's eyes fall closed. "Yes."

She waits, until she can feel Maura's breath washing over her, the sweep of her eyelashes against her skin. Until their hips align and she settles one hand on Maura's hip, the other carding through her soft hair, watching the way her lips fall open, waiting.

"Jane. Yes," she whispers.

It is the last thing she says before Jane kisses her, lips slanting over hers. She feels that same rush of adrenaline as last time, but she keeps this kiss slow, soft, as Maura trembles against her. Then she feels Maura's hands against her waist, testing, curious, finding a place to settle. Maura's mouth opens for her on a sigh and she finds her tongue immediately, swallowing the soft moan she lets out that shoots straight through her, has warmth curling in her stomach. Maura grips her shirt in her fists, tugging it away from the waistband of her bands, fingers desperate and shaking in their quest for the skin beneath.

But Jane pulls away, for a second distracted by the pure, undisguised _want_ on Maura's face. She cradles those cheeks between her palms as her pulse beats in her ears.

"I don't care what happened to you, Maura. I – I do care, but I mean… Who you are now, how you've changed, doesn't matter to me. You're nothing less in my eyes. But if you feel like you're less than what you once were, then that's fine. I can show you the truth because I still love you. I love you for more than you are. I just do."

Maura's hands reach up to circle around Jane's wrists.

"You mean that?"

"I've never loved anyone like this, Maur," she murmurs, dipping back down to her again so she can press the most chaste of kisses against those lips. "I never want to love anyone _but_ you like this."

Maura sighs, pushing up on her toes to capture Jane's mouth. Distantly, Jane is aware of the fact that the buttons of her shirt are being undone. She is too distracted by the feel of Maura's soft and small fingers brushing against her chest, her abdomen, and then she's pushing the shirt off of her shoulders. It lands with a soft whisper to the floor and she gasps when Maura's hands grip her naked waist.

"I love everything about you, Jane Rizzoli," Maura murmurs. " _Everything_."

Maura steps away, around her, and Jane reaches for her, confused. But then her hands are filled with Maura's and she watches as the woman she would die for time and time again walks backwards, eyes on hers, dark and smouldering as she leads her up the stairs. Part of her knows she should ask _are you sure? Are you ready?_ But then Maura uses her body to close the door, pushes her up against it, and there is no more thought when their lips meet.

Her hands tremble as she reaches for Maura's blouse, lips separating only when she sucks a path across her jaw instead. Maura grips her back, pulling her closer on a moan, somehow undoing the clasp of her bra as she does. When Jane pulls back slightly she feels it drift down her arms, dropping to the floor, shortly followed by Maura's. When their eyes meet she feels her throat bob, eyes stinging with tears.

"You're beautiful," Maura murmurs, stealing the words right out of her mouth.

They lose their pants on the way to the bed, and Jane finds herself pushing Maura down, so that she can crawl over her, has this strange need to shield her from harm through this. Maura hums in the back of her throat when she aligns their bodies, hands curling at the back of Jane's neck to pull her down for another kiss, her free hand trailing down to trace over the bullet scar Jane earned all those years ago, back before she had realised how much she loved her. Back when she was reckless.

"Maura," she whispers, lips finding her neck, biting down gently.

Maura gasps, upper body arching up into hers. Jane groans, forehead pressing against Maura's shoulder as she lets a few stubborn tears escape.

To her credit, Maura does not fuss. Instead her legs circle Jane's hips, pulling her to her more firmly, dusting kisses through her hair. She's never felt so vulnerable in her entire life.

Jane props herself up on one elbow, not bothering to wipe the tears away. Maura watches her reverently as she lets her thumb brush against her bottom lip.

"Jane. Love me," she murmurs.

She does.

* * *

When she wakes, the world around her feels different.

Cracking one eye open, she notices that the sun has not quite risen yet. The open blinds let her watch as the sky is only just beginning to fade from a deep purple to a light blue. One hand – now so familiar to her, presses just above her heart, a body pressed up against her back. She smirks into the pillow. She's always thought _she'd_ be the big spoon.

Twisting carefully, so as not to wake Maura, she moves until she is facing her. Props herself up on one elbow so that she can stare down at her, observe the woman who had whispered love into her ears just hours before. Her skin is cool to the touch now, as she presses gentle fingers to the soft skin of her waist. It is a spot of Maura's that, if she presses her lips against, makes her eyes roll back. As she reaches for the covers to pull over them, she finds herself smiling at the fact that she has all of this knowledge now.

Maura makes a noise in her sleep, frowning a little, and Jane pauses. A nightmare?

But she settles, quiets. Jane watches her curiously, until Maura's eyes peel open, meeting hers.

"Hi," Jane whispers, swallowing past the lump in her throat.

Maura's smile is slow, unfurling carefully. Something in her eyes shifts, and she reaches up, touching her index finger to the space below Jane's cheekbone.

"This is the first time I've looked at you and seen you before Melissa," Maura tells her quietly.

Her own smile is easy. She reaches down so that they meet, kissing softly, legs twining with Maura's.

"I'm so glad you found me," Maura murmurs, hands cupping Jane's jaw. Presses a soft kiss to the cleft of her chin. "Time and time again. Every day. You find me."

* * *

 **TBC**


	19. epilogue

**between your ribs**

* * *

 _Thank you all, so much, for embarking on this journey with me. Your reviews have meant the world to me. I hope that this last instalment does not disappoint._

* * *

 **Epilogue**

 _December 3rd, 2016_

* * *

Jane's foot slips a little on ice as she rounds the corner, panting, shoulder bumping off of the building wall. The suspect shoves a trashcan over but she leaps over it easily, gripping him by the shoulders when he realises he's lead them down a dead end.

Korsak, red in the face and rounding the corner after she's cuffed their guy, takes over, leading him to the car. Jane laughs, bending for a moment and resting her hands on her knees to catch her breath. She's been getting lazy. Not been jogging as much as normal – but, oh, man. Dragging herself out of bed every morning is such an unappealing option now. Not when there's Maura, bright and soft and effervescent. Jane laughs, swiping her hand across her forehead. Okay. Maybe she's getting soft.

"Why don't you go home? I'll do the paperwork," Korsak says, closing the car door after their perp climbs in.

"It's not even twelve," she protests half-heartedly.

He shrugs. "I'll cover you. I know what day it is. You'd rather be at home."

Jane purses her lips before bumping her shoulder to his. "Thanks, Korsak."

* * *

The house is quiet when she gets home, save for Jo Friday's random grunts as she sleeps in her bed at the end of the couch. A freshly made cup of tea sits on the kitchen island, steam still rising from it and curling in the air. She lets her fingers hover above it, indulging herself in this warmth before pulling off her coat and blazer. This winter has been especially biting, frost nipping at every patch of her exposed skin.

"You're home early."

She twists to see Maura heading down the stairs, pulling her hair free of a bun. The honey locks fall down to her shoulder blades in loose curls, making her cheeks seem rounder somehow when she smiles. The sweater she wears is a deep red, fitting for the festive season, somehow drawing out the pleasant rosiness that flushes across those cheeks with her delight. Jane feels her own numbing as she smiles so wide at the sight of her girlfriend. Not a day goes by where she doesn't count her lucky stars that they are able to be here, like this.

"Case closed. Korsak volunteered to do my paperwork," she tells her.

Maura lifts on her toes to kiss her, hand squeezing hers for a moment before she heads past her to collect her mug. Hums when she takes a sip of the tea.

"I'm glad he did," she admits softly, watching Jane through her eyelashes.

"Me too."

* * *

The windows are frosty by the time the afternoon rolls around, Jo Friday sniffing at their toes. Jane huffs, pulling her legs up onto the couch and crosses them as Maura lifts her head from her shoulder, laughing. They'd been carefully avoiding the subject since Jane had arrived home. Instead they've watched movies, Maura resting against her, warm body alive and real – something she must remind herself time and time again. As Maura lifts away, standing, she wants to reach for her hand, circle her wrist. Wants to ask _should we talk about it? Do we ignore it?_

"I'm going to take her for a walk," Maura says.

"I'll go with you."

Maura shakes her head, pushing Jane lightly when she moves to stand. Jane bounces back onto the couch, watching, confused, as Maura moves away to find Jo Friday's lead, pulling her coat on as she does.

"Maur – "

"There you are," Maura mumbles upon finding the lead. At the sight of it, Jo Friday's ears perk up before she starts running in circles, making Maura laugh.

"Maura, c'mon…"

Jane stands, heading towards her. Still, her girlfriend behaves as though she hasn't said a word, bending down to attach Jo Friday's lead to her collar. She moves to grab her keys but Jane catches her wrist, pulling her closer, even as Maura keeps her eyes trained on her floor. Her breath catches when Maura's wrist slips free from her hand to twine her own with it, fingers locked, squeezing.

"I'm going to come back, Jane," she whispers, pushing up on her toes to kiss her softly. "The date doesn't matter. I'm going to come back. It's just a simple walk around the block."

"I know. I do, I just – "

Maura sighs, swaying into her, their hips brushing. She circles her arms tight around Jane's back, hands resting against her shoulder blades as her cheek pillows against her shoulder. Jane feels her eyes prick with tears and tucks her chin down, pressing her nose into Maura's hair, breathing in deeply for the familiar smell of her shampoo. Feels her throat close up when instead of the familiar cherry blossom smell, it is her own shampoo scent. Of course.

"I'll be back in ten minutes," Maura murmurs, pulling away a little to look up at her. "Please don't smother me, Jane."

The pleading note to Maura's voice has her shifting away, letting her go with one last squeeze of her hand. Stands still as her girlfriend – more than that, really; the woman she would walk through fire for – chatters to Jo Friday until she is gone, out the door, and she is stood alone.

It's melodramatic and she doesn't care.

Even leaving for work this morning had been Hell, the thought of leaving Maura all alone on this day making her heart spasm with fear. It's been exactly two years since the day Maura had been taken. Since the day she had sat with her and watched movies, just like they have done today, said goodbye and arranged plans for later in the week and then Maura was just – gone. Taken from her without any warning. Taken for two hundred and ninety two days.

Jane turns, sighing, and sets a ten minute timer on her phone.

* * *

When her phone buzzes on the counter soon after, she rushes over to it, heart pounding, thinking it's the timer and that Maura still hasn't returned. Already awful images flow through her mind, of shadowy figures emerging from alleys, grabbing Maura just as she looks the other way. But when her fingers close around the cell, it is not the timer lighting up the screen, but Agent Phillips' name.

She pauses for a moment, confused. What does the FBI want with her _now_?

"Rizzoli."

"Detective Rizzoli. It's Agent Phillips, I worked Maura Isles's case with you – "

"I remember you, Agent," she says, shifting nervously, eyes flickering over to the door. It remains shut. "You need something for her case?"

"No, actually. I have a… proposition for you."

Jane shifts away from the counter, to the windowsill, smiling as she runs a finger over a photo of herself and Maura at a Red Sox game. Taken maybe a month ago, after she had first officially moved in – she had lived here for months away, but had still kept her old apartment, just in case. It was her Ma who had forced her to take that step, told her as long as she kept one foot out the door she and Maura would always be full of uncertainties. Then again, she had also been hinting for more grandchildren since the day she and Maura had told her they were together, so maybe that was why.

"A proposition?"

"A job offer. With me, on my team, working for the FBI."

Jane grips the windowsill as her mouth drops open. "You're offering me a _job?_ "

"Yes, Detective," Phillips hums, amused. "One of my agents recently… we lost her. I thought perhaps you would make a good asset for the team – you seemed to work well with Agent Ito. Of course, you'll need to pass training, but I know you will with flying colours."

"I – uh, wow."

It's a fantastic offer. It's – kind of more than she had ever dreamed. But Maura –

Phillips laughs at her silence. "I'm not going to force you to make a decision on the spot, Detective. You have until next Friday to decide. Let me know if you're interested."

"Yeah, sure. I'll uh – call you."

"Don't be a stranger, Rizzoli."

Phillips ends the call, leaving Jane staring down at her phone.

What on Earth had just happened?

* * *

When Maura gets home, she's leaning against one of the counters, deep in thought. Actually misses her coming through the door, Jo Friday shaking and getting water everywhere. It isn't until Maura's hand curls around her hip and her body presses into her side that she jumps, finally returning to reality, to her home with Maura. Her girlfriend watches her with a smile, fingers reaching up to press against her cheek.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I – "

She hesitates, which only makes Maura frown.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing. Not really. But, uh, Phillips called – the Agent who ran your case once you were found," she says. To her credit, Maura doesn't flinch, simply continues to watch Jane, curious, but also analysing. Trying to find the source of the problem. "She offered me a job."

Maura gives her a strained smile, the hand resting on her hip squeezing tightly.

"That's _great,_ Jane."

"I guess. I don't know. She says I have until next Friday to decide."

Her hand reaches out to wrap around Maura's shoulders, pull her closer, but she moves away. Jane watches her go with a frown as she begins pulling out food from the fridge, completely normal, face blank. Well. This isn't good news. She knows her girlfriend's tells.

"Maur?"

Maura's hands shake as she digs through the cupboards for a baking tray. "I'm making roast chicken tonight, is that okay with you?"

Jane crosses the distance between them until Maura has no choice but to look at her. Her eyes meet hers hesitantly. Okay. Something is wrong. Isn't Maura the one who, just ten minutes ago, was telling _her_ not to worry?

"What's wrong?"

Maura sighs, setting the baking tray on the counter.

"Nothing, Jane. You should take the job."

"But that means moving, how would you – "

"I'd go anywhere with you," Maura murmurs, pressing a kiss to her shoulder. "As long as you wanted me to."

"Of course I'd want you to. I want you with me always," she confesses to the space above Maura's head.

She feels Maura's breath hitch, and then her girlfriend moves away, smiling just a little. But there's still something there, something bubbling beneath the surface, that seems to be niggling away at Maura, lurking in the corner of her eyes. It's the same look she'd had for the first few weeks of their relationship, when things were still new and tentative between them, before they had been willing to tell anybody. Just a subtle insecurity that still lurks as a result of the abduction, but enough to still create a small rift between the two of them sometimes, no matter how many times she whispers _I love you_ into her skin.

"You know, sometimes, I get the feeling you're still waiting for something to go wrong."

She shrugs, attempting to turn away but Jane catches her hand. Her skin is so rough compared to Maura's, something she always notices whenever she holds her. And yet, Maura turns and looks at her like she cannot quite comprehend why she's still here.

"Nothing's gonna happen, Maura. You're safe. You know that."

"I do. But… "

"But?"

Maura sighs, looking away for a moment to collect herself.

"Sometimes I wonder if you're just with me out of guilt. Because of the abduction. Because I need you in order to be happy."

Jane feels the air rush out of her lungs, tears pricking her eyes for the second time today. She releases Maura's hand, taking a step away for a moment, pulse loud in her ears. This isn't – how could Maura _ever_ belittle what they have to something like that? Something so twisted and _wrong?_ She loves her, more than anything – she would die for this woman. Not out of guilt. Just love.

"Is that – Jeez, Maur, do you really think so little of me?" She whispers hoarsely.

"Little? Jane, you're the – the most compassionate woman I've ever known. So, I'm giving you a choice," Maura takes a deep breath, hands flattening against her red sweater. "You can go after that job. Do what you love. You don't have to baby sit me anymore."

Jane laughs, dropping Maura's hand so that she can cup her cheeks. She leans in to kiss her, softly, slowly, tasting all of the insecurity Maura holds and sweeping it away. When she pulls away, Maura's hands tighten around her waist, afraid she'll leave.

"Marry me."

Maura's eyes widen. "What?"

"Will you, Maura Isles, marry – "

"Yes!" She cries, covering Jane's mouth with hers, hands greedy against her now, pulling her t-shirt up and over her head to get to her skin. "Yes. Yes. A thousand times. Yes."

* * *

When she wakes the next morning, she stares up at the ceiling for a moment to collect her breath, convinced that last night had been a dream – the job offer, the proposal. Maura saying _yes._ It feels too good to be true, even as her hands travel across the marks Maura had left against her last night, the purpling hickeys on her hips and the inside of her thighs. She'd never seen or felt Maura quite as enthusiastic, as happy, as last night. Jane hums low in her throat, content. Finally.

What is it Ito had told her once? _After rain comes fair weather._

Jane rolls onto her stomach, propping herself up on her arm. The day is beginning outside, the city already waking. Maura is light.

She runs her fingers through Maura's hair, curves them around her bare shoulder. Real skin beneath hers, together, even after all of the things that tried to keep them apart. At her touch, Maura snuffles in her sleep, lightly, and Jane laughs, pressing kisses she'll never hold back again against the woman's cheek. Oh, god. She loves this woman with a passion that frightens her.

Maura's eyelids flutter, brows furrowing, until her hands land on Jane's waist and pull her close. Jane smiles, resting her chin against Maura's hair as she lies back down to sleep, cradling Maura against her.

Yes. This. Simplicity of love with Maura.

It's all fair weather.

* * *

 _The fog is so thick that I could lose you in it,_ you say -  
and I put my hand on your hand until our fingers mix up.

There is a shipwreck between your ribs and it took eighteen years  
for me to understand your kind of drowning.  
 **\- What It Took To Understand, Shinji Moon**


End file.
